Invisible
by ElectroGirlNoir
Summary: Howard finds himself a jazz woman and Vince is not sure he likes it all that much... and is she really as nice as she seems? Rated M for various themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Invisible**

**Author's Note:**** I bring you something slightly dark this time, it might get a bit darker in other chapters but I'll only write them once the fic's got some reviews, if you want more :D This started off as a one-shot but I think it could do with some more chapters :-)**

**Disclaimer: **** I don't own the Boosh. **

It had seemed great at first. Howard, finally finding himself a pretty little jazz woman to go out with, who collected bookmarks and who was mayor of Make-up Village at her tiny new cosmetic shop at the end of the road, but now, now that Vince found himself alone in the flat (Bollo and Naboo having gone to 'ave it large!' with the rest of the shamen) he wasn't sure it was so great after all.

She was always coming into the shop and standing around smiling at Howard, who did exactly the same back, a really nice, handsome smile, that Vince had never seen him do before, whilst Vince brooded in the corner, or she was forever ringing him up and going on and on about where they were going to go that night, or if maybe they could go on holiday together, usually when he and Howard were in the middle of something, like a crimp, or a new song for a gig, or even sometimes just a conversation.

Vince was sick of her. He was sick of watching Howard wrap his arms tight around her and murmur things into her hair, he was sick of listening to Howard going on about how pretty she was, or even worse, the prettiest in all of London, he was sick of having conversations interrupted by her phone calls or her arrivals and he was sick of being alone at night in the room he shared with Howard and having no one to talk to and, if he had a nightmare (he rarely did so sometimes he just lied), get a small, five-second hug and an affectionate 'don't touch me' from, because he was off making love to her instead.

It was dark in the flat, and Vince sat on the sofa, knees drawn up to his chest. Quite honestly, he felt like crap. He had thought that he'd be happier about the fact that Howard had a girlfriend, but he wasn't, and now he thought about it, he wasn't sure that he'd been that happy about it from day one. It was just... he didn't know what.

It was just annoying, inconvenient. He was fed up of watching Howard walk into the living room dressed up attractively, smiling broadly because he was going out for the rest of the night with Make-up Village Woman, as Vince liked to call her. Her real name was Dixie.

Howard would ask Vince to fix his hair for him, and Vince would get to work wrestling the curls into position with some gel, but there was always one misbehaving one at the front that he'd have to tuck behind Howard's ear. He always sulked to Howard lately that he didn't see why he bothered, because within an hour, Dixie would be messing it up again, no doubt.

Well, he thought, getting up from the sofa, if everyone else was out, he was going to bloody well go out and all. He stood up and headed into the bedroom, surprised that he had to talk himself into selecting an outfit that would dazzle Camden and wherever else he went for the night.

When he stepped outside into the rain, the opportunity to sit alone and think about Howard and her had created a whirlwind of angry emotions swirling around in his head. He didn't care what he did tonight. Maybe Howard would actually take a bit of notice if he drunk himself to death. Then again, he thought, as he set off down the road, heels clicking on the pavement, probably not. After all, Howard had managed not to notice that he now had red highlights in his hair, had won a singing competition down at the Velvet Onion, and was going through to the final, the prize being a place in a new band_. _

The pavements outside the clubs were overcrowded with people, and Vince weaved his way through them, constantly being stopped by people who recognised him. He paused outside a towering nightclub, its bright lights illuminating the damp streets.

That's when he noticed Howard and Dixie across the road, seemingly deciding whether or not to take shelter from the ever-impending rain in a club or just go home. He watched in silence, wondering, perhaps even hoping slightly, that Howard would see him, and he did look across the road, his arms around Dixie, but he just looked right through Vince, and turned back again, kissing the top of her head, and Vince realised that Howard had just made him something he never thought he could be: invisible in a crowd of people.

Why did it affect him so much?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **** Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! I'm ridiculously nervous about posting this next chapter; I hope it lives up to expectations! :D If anyone's read my other nine chaptered story, I'm having writer's block **_**and **_**writer's panic with it at the moment, seeing as things are going to have to go to their logical conclusion with Howard and Vince in chapter ten. :D **

**Disclaimer: **** I am neither Noel nor Julian, so do not own the Mighty Boosh. **

Howard arrived home the next day to find an un-amused looking Naboo behind the shop counter, arms folded.

'What's going on?' Howard asked.

'I've been here all morning, by myself, that's what,' Naboo deadpanned.

'What d'you mean?' Howard hung up his jacket on the coat stand, 'Where's Vince?'

'He's in the bedroom,' Naboo replied, 'He hasn't come out all morning. Bad hair day, apparently,'

'Hm...'

Naboo added, 'And it wouldn't hurt for you to stay home a bit more often these days. I mean, I know you're happy with Make-up Vil- I mean, Dixie, but you've completely ignored everything else for the past weeks, including Vince and the bloody shop,'

'I haven't sir!' Howard exclaimed, removing his hat too, frowning, 'Howard Moon is a civil man, he doesn't ignore anybody!'

'Look,' Naboo sighed, 'either go get Vince or get behind the counter, yeah?'

In the bedroom, Vince continued to stare at himself in front of the mirror, leaning his elbows on the dressing table, head in his hands. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep; his head was pounding, as if the vibrations of the club music were still trapped inside. He didn't look away from the mirror when he heard the knock at the door.

'Vince?'

Vince rolled his eyes, putting his head down on the cool polished wood of the table as his best friend's Northern tones drifted through the door. Unfortunately, despite the hangover, he hadn't forgotten the moment that Howard had just looked right through him last night, and he still felt crappy about it, too crappy to even think about sorting his image out for the day.

'Vince?'

_Oh, shush up. _Vince thought. Howard probably only wanted to get in so that he could get ready to meet Make-up Village Woman again.

'Vince, let me in, what are you doing in there?'

Vince pressed his head against the table, feeling his heart start to beat faster and the blood pounding in his ears. It was ridiculous; he didn't know why he was in such a state. It felt worse than the actual hangover.

'Vince, can you just let me come in and talk to you? What have you done?'

_Talk? What was there to talk about, Dixie? Dixie's beautiful blue eyes? _

'Vince, we both sleep in this bedroom, therefore, can you please open the door so that I can get to my half?'

Vince lifted his head from the table, 'Door's on your side of the room,' he said, expressionlessly, 'why don't you open it?'

'Vince,' Howard sighed.

'Howard.'

'Look, Vince, stop acting up and unlock the door. I want to talk to you sir,' Howard wrapped his knuckles on the door again.

'Well, I might not want to talk to you right now,' Vince answered, irritated, 'I'm busy,'

'Busy doing what?'

'Are you really asking me that?' Vince snorted a laugh that he didn't feel. He just wanted Howard to go away and night to come so that he could go back out again and get lost in the dark and the music. He didn't know why he was feeling so annoyed, hurt almost, but the loud music and copious amounts of alcohol seemed to almost smother it perfectly. What he didn't want to do was spend another day down in the shop watching them together and spending time thinking about it.

'Ok, you know what Vince, fine,' Howard sighed heavily, 'I don't know what's going on, but fine. You could at least come down and help with the shop; it's looking to be a busy day today, bad hair day or not,'

Vince didn't answer. He listened to Howard's footsteps as he headed back down into the shop, and then remained where he sat, feeling worse than before Howard had even spoken to him. He had wanted to open the door and let Howard in, but there was something about the thought of talking to him that made him feel... well, he wasn't sure what, but it wasn't good.

He should have been angry with Howard for pretty much completely ignoring him, but he wasn't. Every time he tried to hold onto the feelings of resentment they just drifted away and turned into feelings he couldn't quite grasp. He felt weirdly upset, a sort of strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that got worse every time he saw them together. That was what was making him angry. His brain cell leaned back in its chair, wound up and demanding Vince to make his mind up; the paperwork was getting ridiculous.

Down in the shop, Howard sat behind the counter and watched the tall young man who was lingering by the door, inside the shop, dressed completely in black Goth clothes, long leather jacket flying out behind him as he paced.

'Er, can I help you?' Howard asked.

The Goth gave him a hard stare before asking, 'Is this where Vince Noir lives?'

'Yes,' Howard answered, and repeated his previous question, 'can I help you?'

'Yeah, do you know where he is?'

'He's upstairs,' Howard looked over his shoulder to call to Naboo who was down in the stockroom, 'Naboo, there's a gentleman here to see Vince, could you give him a shout?'

There was a pause, followed by angry muttering and then Naboo appeared, giving both the Goth and Howard a look prior to heading up the stairs.

Howard gave the young man an awkward smile before looking down at the front cover of the jazz magazine that was lying on the counter.

'He wants to know who it is!' Naboo called down.

Howard looked up at the man, who rolled his eyes and answered:

'Nowé Nightsmoke,'

Up in the room, Vince stood up and opened the door, coming face to face with Naboo who gave him a faint half smile before heading downstairs. Vince had retouched his make-up and changed his outfit subsequent to Howard's attempted visit.

Nowé Nightsmoke was the lead singer of the band that was the competition prize, and Vince wondered what he was doing there as he made his way down into the shop.

Howard had to stop trying to hear what the Goth and Vince were saying by the door to serve the small queue of customers that had somehow materialised in front of the counter. As he did so, Naboo's words from earlier floated back into the front of his mind through the picture of Dixie that was permanently and lovingly shimmering there.

'_...you've completely ignored everything else for the past weeks, including Vince,'_

That wasn't true. Was that what was the matter with Vince today?

'Hey, Naboo!'

Howard snapped out of his thoughts (he'd served the customers on auto-pilot it seemed, while he took a mental stroll) when he heard Vince's excited exclamation, and he watched as Vince marched past him to the stockroom, the floaty sleeves on the black lacy top he was wearing fluttering behind him.

'What is it?' Naboo called.

'I might 'ave a good chance of winnin' the competition! The other bloke's thinking of droppin' out! It's genius!'

'Brilliant,' Naboo's voice drifted up through the stockroom, slightly less dead-pan than usual, 'that's great, Vince,'

'Cheers!' Vince moved to go back up the stairs to the flat, but Howard called,

'Hey, what competition?'

'Oh, only the one I tried to tell you about ten times this week,' Vince answered, eyes flashing deep blue, before heading up the stairs.

Howard sighed a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly, and called to Naboo over the sound of Vince's heels clomping up to the flat, 'What competition, Naboolio?'

He didn't remember hearing anything about any competition. Vince had clearly not told him. He couldn't help thinking about how peaceful Dixie's flat was compared to things here in the _Nabootique_; at Dixie's there was never a Crack Fox hanging around by the bins, or a green cockney going on about pie, mash and eels.

Also at Dixie's, there was never a sparkly fashionista throwing tantrums and stomping about in his inches high heels whenever anything didn't go his way.

'He's nearly won a place as a singer in a new band,' Naboo's exasperated voice responded.

'A place in a new band!' Howard exclaimed, unaware that Vince was perched on the stairs listening, 'What about _our_ band? What suddenly happened to that, eh? See what I mean, Naboo, he's acting a little titbox. Why didn't he tell me? How can he just go and join another band without telling me first?'

Vince sat on the top step, mind reeling with responses to every question Howard had just asked down in the shop: _I tried to tell you ten flippin' times, Howard, only every time I tried, you told me to hang on a minute cos Dixie was ringing you, or I had to shut up because Dixie was coming into the shop to grin at you whilst you worked. What about our band? It's not like you've been around to actually make up any songs with me is it? We can't be in a band if you're not there to mix the music, for fucksake. I can go and join another band without telling you cos I can! Am I supposed to run everything by you first, like you're my boss or something? You wouldn't have given a monkey's if I had managed to get a word in edgeways to tell you anyway, because you'd have been thinking about Make-up Village Woman! _

He stood up, hating himself for being so angry about such a trivial thing, but it had been going on for weeks; he'd been dropping snippets of conversation, dangling words out on a thread, maybe saying something that might instigate a crimp, but in response Howard either didn't have a clue what he was talking about or started warbling on about how whatever he said reminded him of Dixie.

About to head into the bedroom he paused when he heard that Howard's conversation with Naboo had evolved to become one about Her:

'It's just, she makes me so happy Naboo, you know? I wake up, and even if it's rainin' I think about her and _pow_; the sun may as well be shining!'

'Great, but that doesn't mean-'

'I don't think I've ever been so happy, she's beautiful, her eyes are amazing, sir, like two blue... _saucers_. Little Dixie Blue Eyes, my blue-eyed baby, chika chika!'

'Right... but-'

'I'm glad I waited, Naboo, it's been this long but I think I've found the woman I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with...'

Crouched on the stairs, Vince looked down as something wet dripped from his cheek and landed on his leg, soaking into the material of his skinny jeans. _Tears_?

'I know it's soon, Naboo, but give it a couple more weeks... I'd like to move in with her. It's a big step, I know, but I'd still come and work here,'

'What about Vince?'

'Vince?'

'Yeah, Vince!' Naboo sounded rather irked, 'How d'you think he's gonna feel about that?'

'Vince won't mind! He'll be pleased to see the back of me, he'll get the room to himself, he'll drop me like a copy o' _Cheekbone_, sir!'

On the stairs Vince's tears we're falling fast, running down his cheeks, and he pressed his cherry glossed lips together to stop a sob escaping them. _Why the hell was he crying? It was good that Howard was..._

'I'm in love, Naboo,'

_In love. _

_Howard was in love with Dixie, Make-up Village Woman._

Vince wiped the tears furiously from his face, eyeliner smudged on the backs of his hands and the tips of his fingers, tracing his cheeks. _That was good. He wanted Howard to be in love with her; he was supposed to be pleased, wasn't he? _

It didn't matter, he thought, tears still shining on his cheeks and in his eyes as he stood up and headed to the bedroom. It didn't matter, because he was going to get so drunk that this stupid pain he was feeling in his chest would be nothing but a dull ache.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **** This chapter didn't end how I planned! **

**Disclaimer: **** As I write this, an urban fox is crawling around outside. It is possibly the Crack Fox. Even so, I do not own the Mighty Boosh.**

That night, everyone except Naboo was going out, and Vince found himself sitting on the sofa, watching Howard as he moved about the living room dancing and humming a jazz tune, swaying his hips and tapping his feet.

It was like Howard had completely forgotten about earlier; he didn't appear to remember the fact that Vince was probably going to be in a different band, or realise the connotations of that, and he didn't even seem to comprehend that Vince was acting distant as he sat on the sofa, the TV on and the sound low; he'd just spent the whole day telling Vince about Dixie, and Vince had listened and laughed and tried to comment at all the right moments if he could get a word in, because Howard just seemed so happy, and it was nice to see Howard smiling so much. Every time Howard smiled he forgot all his problems with him, but then he'd remember that he was smiling because of Dixie and they'd all come flooding back.

'Yeah, I had a bit of a wild night last night actually,' he said, drawing his knees up to his chest and trying to start a conversation that had a different topic than the usual these days, 'Thought I'd see how Camden'd take to my new look,'

Howard flicked his brown eyes over Vince, 'Er... what new look?'

Vince gingerly picked up a red strand of his hair, 'What d'you think this is?'

'Oh,' to Vince, Howard couldn't have looked less bothered if he tried.

'I got through to the final,' Vince tried; deliberately missing out the words 'of the singing competition' just to see if Howard remembered what he was talking about. 'Final?' Howard said.

'Yep. The final...' He knew Howard wasn't listening, The Maverick Moon was too busy dancing, but Vince had one more test up his sleeve, 'And it was a nightmare, right, cos all these purple and green elephants wearing matching legwarmers charged up to me and wanted my autograph,'

There was a pause before Howard realised Vince had stopped speaking and said, 'That's nice,'

Vince sighed, standing up, 'Did you even hear what I said, Howard?'

'Something about giraffe's?'

'No,' Vince exhaled, 'I was talking about-'

'D'you think I look presentable enough?' Howard suddenly asked, without stopping dancing, 'I mean, for Dixie?'

'C'mere,' Vince sighed.

When Howard, still in some kind of jazz trance, didn't respond, Vince advanced on him, taking hold of his tie.

'Don't touch me, Vince!'

'Your tie isn't done properly,' Vince answered blankly, picking at the tie with his slender fingers, 'and neither is your collar,'

'Oh,'

Howard looked down at him for a minute, until Vince tapped him on the chin, hand brushing against his stubble,

'Lift your chin up, then,' the smaller man fussed.

Howard complied.

'There,' Vince stood back to check Howard over for any other fashion faux-pa's, noticing the stray curl of his hair, and reaching up to tuck it behind his ear, 'That's alright now,'

'Thank you, Vince. How do I look?'

'Fine,' Vince answered, looking at his shoes, finding it difficult to look Howard in the eye, and then summoning a scowl onto his face, 'If you were going to be spending the day with someone with no eyeballs,' he finished.

It was a lie. Howard looked rather fetching, all dressed up smartly. His hair was slightly messier today, because Vince said he couldn't keep using copious amounts of hair-gel on Howard's brown smoke when he might need to use it for his own glossy mane, but it suited him.

'Well, Dixie finds me rather attractive, sir, and that's all that matters to me,'

'She really is, isn't she?' Vince muttered, 'The only thing that matters to you,'

'What?' Howard raised an eyebrow, not hearing him properly.

Vince was about to answer with something less catty when Howard's phone rang and he waved a dismissive hand at Vince, answering it swiftly:

'Hello, Dixie baby,'

Vince shuddered at the sound of Howard's voice, all low and smooth.

'I'm on my way now,' Howard said, and then, 'Oh no, what? There's been a mix-up then, ha-ha. I couldn't wait to see you so I completely forgot the time you said... I've told you about doing your shopping in the dark, it's not good someone as beautiful as you wandering around in the shadows... yeah, why don't you stop by here, and we'll leave together?'

At this comment, Vince, sitting back on the sofa, rolled his eyes, fluffing up his hair irately with one hand; _great, stellar, genius; invite her round_.

'She's coming here first,' Howard explained to Vince when he and Dixie had finished cooing to one another down the phone.

'Terrific.'

'Vince, what has gotten into you?' Howard frowned, watching Vince who was staring firmly at the screen.

'Well what d'you want me to do?' Vince snapped suddenly, turning to face Howard, 'Open a packet o' twiglets?' he surprised even himself with his outburst, because he had been trying for ages not to let Howard know he was angry because of Dixie, but he didn't think he could physically and mentally stand watching Howard and Make-up Village Woman cuddling and kissing and talking all lovey-dovey whilst he sat there like a berk.

Howard shook his head, leaving the room to wait down in the shop for her.

Vince remained where he sat, suddenly whishing that Howard would come back into the room; it felt unexpectedly huge and empty. He would have almost rather had Howard get cross with him, at least that way he knew that the older man was actually taking notice, and he would have probably stayed in the room with him for more than five seconds even if it was just to argue, but he didn't seem to care.

'Move up, will ya?'

Vince blinked, and turned to see Naboo, the shaman making an attempt to drag his feet of the sofa.

Vince moved them, shuffling up on the sofa so that Naboo could plonk himself down next to him, 'Where'd you come from?'

'You were too busy staring at the door to even see me come in through it,' Naboo replied, scanning the sofa, 'Where's the remote control, Peacock Dreams is coming on,'

Vince delved behind one of the cushions, sighing and handing it to the shaman, 'I'm going out when they leave,' he muttered.

He couldn't wait to go, drown himself in the noise and the alcohol until everything blurred into an oil painting and he didn't need to think about what he was doing or why he was doing it because he simply couldn't.

'That's not gonna help,' Naboo said, and for a minute Vince wondered if he'd spoken out loud.

When he heard Dixie arrive, Vince crept onto the stairs to watch, feeling a sudden surge of resentment when he saw Howard sweep Dixie into his arms, her dark hair flying out behind her, her giggle breaking the silence of the shop. Howard leaned close, whispered something into her ear, and she giggled again, and then with a bravado Vince had never thought Howard would possess for anyone he kissed her so passionately that Vince looked away, rather startled by the amount of irritation that came over him and the sinking feeling in his stomach.

'I missed you,' her voice was muffled as she said the words into his chest.

'Ey, 'e's been gone hours, not years,' Vince retorted, coming down the stairs, but of course he wasn't heard.

Once again, he was seemingly invisible. It reminded him of when he was growing up in the forest, and sometimes, on the rare occasion that the wildlife and Brian Ferry were too busy to take much notice of him, he would assume that he was invisible and do something outlandish and that always made him visible again.

However, he knew that here in the shop, while Howard was gazing into Dixie's blue eyes like they were the only two people in the universe, there was nothing he could do to make himself visible again.

He couldn't understand why seeing her and Howard together made him feel like rubbish. He put it down to the fact that Howard didn't take any notice of him at all anymore, only to tell him to take out the bins properly or to get him to fix his hair or help him with an outfit. And why did Howard think he'd drop him like a copy of _Cheekbone_? Didn't the fact that he'd stayed with Howard all these years show anything? Had Howard just stayed with him because he had no one else or did he just not care now that he had found Dixie?

The thought made Vince's heart pound against his rib cage, and this time when the tears stung his eyes he laughed sarcastically at himself; _what was wrong with him? He'd gone wrong in his mind tank._

'_E's forever pulled towards her, _he thought, sighing, _it's like she's a big magnet. _For a minute, he indulged himself in the thought that she secretly was, and Howard would go round there one day, find her getting it on with a box of paperclips and chuck her.

He watched them leave, her hand lost in Howard's much larger one, before heading into the bedroom to pick out an outfit he didn't feel like picking for a night out he felt too miserable to go on.

_**He stumbled around the street as he fell out of the club, tripping over his heels and falling onto the pavement, only to be yanked up roughly by someone whose hand was holding on too tightly to his arm. He felt himself be pushed roughly into someone else, and he heard the shouting, signalling the beginning of a fight. He felt someone grab him, yank his head back roughly by his hair, saw the shining spike of glass in another person's hand, tried to get away as he saw them raise that same hand and felt the pain sear across his face. **_

It was incredibly late when, in Dixie's flat, Howard's phone rang, and for a few minutes he pondered between staying in his comfortable spot on the sofa with Dixie, his arms around her and her head resting on his chest, or moving to answer it.

Dixie sat up, pressing a swift kiss to Howard's cheek, 'You should answer it,' she said, 'Just in case,'

Howard sighed and jabbed the answer button, 'Hello?'

Naboo's voice answered, sounding urgent, 'I don't care where you are or what you're doing; you need to come home, now,'

'Why?'

'Something's happened to Vince,'


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **** How this has gained another three chapters I will never know! ;D Anyway, this is my first attempt at slash writing, so review and let me know if it was okay! Warnings for language and slash! **

**Disclaimer:**** (Puts on her Crack-Fox voice that terrifies small Boosh Fans) Diddly-Do, Diddly-Dee, the Boosh is not owned by me!**

Howard was overwhelmed by the rush of emotions he felt when he entered the shop and saw the scene before him:

Vince, Vince sitting in the chair, head back, crimson blood running down the pale skin of his face, eyes fluttering back in his head, lip bleeding. His chest was heaving as he tried to breathe through his tears, but it also seemed that he was trying to keep calm, because he was jiggling his right leg, something he only did when he was angry. When he saw Howard standing in the doorway, he glared at him, eyes fluttering again, a snarl lifting up the corner of his mouth.

'Stop it, Vince, lean back...' Naboo was trying to clean Vince's face up, but he kept moving about, making it too difficult.

'Why do you care...?' Vince slurred to the shaman.

'You're like my brother, aren't you,' Naboo sighed, turning to look at Howard helplessly, 'Get here an' help me,' he frowned.

Howard moved over to Vince, lost for words, reaching out to touch his face that was wet with tears and blood, just to see if he was real, just to see that he wasn't as fragile as he looked and wouldn't in fact shatter when he touched him.

Vince launched a hand up and slapped the older man's hand violently away, '_Don't_!'

'Vince...' Howard said, staring at him, fighting the urge to pull him into his arms, 'What happened?'

'He got in a fight or something,' Naboo sighed, 'I don't know,'

At that moment, Bollo came down into the shop from the flat, fixing Howard with a stare, 'Bollo find Vince in the street, all alone, bleeding. Bollo carry him home. Someone hurt precious Vince. If Bollo find out who, I rip their 'ead off,'

'I don't... Vince...' Howard said, 'Little Man... please...'

Vince looked at Howard, and through his drunken haze wished more than anything that he would just wrap his arms around him, tell him he mattered. Everything spun, and when he spoke it seemed like his voice came from somewhere far away. He was lost in a swirl of feelings, and the worst part was that they were still there. He remembered going out, trying to get rid of them, and it appeared that he hadn't succeeded; they were still present, making his head scream inside. He didn't care that he was bleeding, or even really register the pain; all he wanted was to fall, to fall away into some kind of limbo where nothing mattered; no emotions, no people, no weird feelings.

'I'm gonna call Dixie and tell her I can't come back,'

_Dixie_.

Her name made him feel rage like he hadn't felt since someone had accidentally knocked his favourite jacket on the floor and then, to add insult to injury, trodden on it. But it was worse than even that, it rose from deep inside him somewhere, wrapped its burning hands around his heart and yanked.

The fact that Howard was still going on about her now, even now, whilst he, his best mate, the person who'd been with him all these years and knew more about him than anyone else was sitting there, bleeding, made those hands of rage twist the knife in deeper, causing hurt to bleed into the anger.

He wasn't aware that he was crying again until he heard Bollo's rumbling voice:

'Don't cry, precious Vince,'

Vince resigned weakly to letting Howard clean the wound on his cheek when he came back from talking to Dixie.

'This might sting a little bit,' Howard told him.

Vince looked into his eyes for a minute, before Howard motioned for him to turn his face to the side; Howard's eyes were full of concern, catching the light of the shop, making them slightly golden in colour.

_Imagine_, Vince thought, as he felt his heart race at the feel of Howard's hand against his face, and then pain sear through his cheek diluting the feeling and making him clench his teeth, _Imagine if __**I**__ fucking loved you, and that's why I feel like this._

Naboo and Bollo came into the shop from the flat, Bollo placing a steaming cup of tea on the side, for Vince.

'You're gonna have to stay here tomorrow,' Naboo told Howard.

'Why?' Howard asked, distractedly, examining the deep cut in Vince's cheek, 'Vince, this is really bad... how did-'

Vince stopped listening, wishing he hadn't woken up in the _Nabootique_, and that he could have woken up the next day, in the night instead, so he could go out and do it all again. It looked like getting hurt was going to be the only way to make Howard take any notice from now on; he didn't even want to stay in the flat with him tomorrow, his whole world suddenly revolved around Make-up Village Woman.

He tuned into the conversation again in time to hear Naboo tut angrily and give his answer:

'Because I'm going out. Ballbag...'

'But...' Howard sighed, shifting from his position kneeling in front of Vince because his knees were starting to ache, 'fine.'

Vince, feeling sleepier by the minute, the edges of his vision blurring, saw himself reaching out a hand to Howard, trying to get his attention, 'Howard...'

'Yes, Vince,' it was more of another sigh than a genuine response.

'We'll do something... write or song or something... or just chat...' Vince said, closing his eyes, swimming through the dreamy colour prisms of ideas in his mind, trying to find one good enough, 'or...' he let out a sigh, sensing himself falling into the long awaited darkness of an unconscious sleep, falling forwards and feeling Howard's warm arms reach out and wrap around him, holding him so that he didn't fall.

_I do_, he thought, tears running free again, _I think I do love you..._

Holding Vince in his arms, Howard felt guilt creep in as he found himself thinking about Dixie; they were supposed to be going out tomorrow, and now he had to stay in the shop. Why was he being made to feel guilty about being in love with Dixie? Even worse, why did he feel like it was his fault that Vince had been hurt? It was Vince that had gone out and gotten himself into a state.

Vince felt so small in his arms, and his breathing was soft by his ear. He leaned back slightly to look at him, and saw that there was a frown disturbing his usually clam features, and tears shone on his defined cheekbones. He always looked so peaceful when he slept, Howard always thought, like some kind of sleeping fairy or an angel, his hair would frame his face and his soft lips would be slightly parted, and even though the frown disturbed the usual he still looked...

'Bollo carry Vince upstairs,'

Howard was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of Bollo's voice, 'Oh, yeah,'

He handed Vince carefully over to the gorilla, feeling cold at the sudden absence of Vince in his arms, against his chest.

Dixie was down in the shop, the next morning. Vince could hear her laughing and talking about something to do with Jazzercise. He had spent the time from when he woke up staring at himself in the mirror, not out of vanity, but just because he was trying to understand something: how could _he _be in love with _Howard_? It had been on his mind since he had woken up, even whilst he was trying to do other things like figure out what he was going to do if the cut on his cheek left a scar, or unravel the plug cord on his straighteners that had somehow got all tangled up with the old pair, he had even been thinking about it when he had gone into the kitchen to find breakfast, the combination of the thought and last night's additions making him feel so sick he had just gone for a glass of water.

If it had been any other time he would have been in a whirlwind of panic about the fact that his face could possibly be scarred, standing in front of the mirror yelling to Howard about how ugly he would be.

Resting his chin in his hands he imagined the scenario:

_**He stands in front of the mirror, almost in tears, and yells for Howard:**_

'_**Howard? Howard, Howard? Howard?'**_

_**Howard runs into the bedroom, sees him standing in front of the mirror with his eyes wide in horror, 'Little Man...?'**_

'_**I'm gonna be ugly, Howard!'**_

'_**No,' Howard comes to stand just behind him, close enough for him to feel the taller man's breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine, 'You'll still be beautiful, Vince,'**_

_**He feels Howard's strong arms slide around his thin waist, pulling him backwards slightly, against him. Howard leans his head down, places a kiss on the side of his neck, a sensation that takes the bones from his legs, and the feel of stubble and moustache prickling against his skin sends thrills all through his body but Howard's arms are holding him up.**_

'_**Turn around...'**_

_**Howard whispers the words softly into his ear; his voice is low, making him shudder as he turns around. **_

_**Howard places a finger under his chin and tilts his face up to meet his, brushing his lips against his glossed ones and then deepening the kiss. He slides one hand around and grabs his buttocks, pulling him against him tight, so that he can feel his obvious arousal against his thigh. **_

His daydream shattered as he heard himself whimper out loud, and he pressed a hand to his mouth, dropping his head down on the table almost painfully; _that _hadn't been the scenario he was thinking of before he had started daydreaming. _Surely _he didn't want that? He tried desperately to ignore the part of his anatomy that was telling him he did, running a hand through his hair.

Before he realised what he was doing he was locking the door and sitting on the edge of his bed, his arousal swelling further as he imagined that it was Howard who was easing his jeans and pants down over his hips. He tried to think about someone else, anything else as he put his hand around the base of his erection, but he couldn't help imagining Howard's larger hand gripping his cock, stroking upwards. He moaned, and bit his lip hard to stop another moan escaping as he stroked himself harder and faster, all the while imagining that it was Howard who doing this to him, Howard who was swiping his thumb over the tip and spreading precome along the length.

Whimpering and bucking his hips involuntarily as he rubbed himself harder, he imagined Howard's voice, low and sensuous as always, whispering obscenities to him. He reached down with his free hand and pushed a finger inside himself, moaning, his head turned to the side, into the sheets as he imagined that that was Howard's hand caressing his buttocks and sliding a finger inside.

'Howard...' He chocked out as he came over his fist and thighs, face flushed and glowing.

After taking a minute to recover, he gazed up at the ceiling, hardly believing what he had just done, trying to work out what the hell was wrong with him, the tide of guilt washing over him. He shouldn't be thinking about Howard when he was touching himself, how could he feel that way about _Howard_?

Anyway, a small part of his psyche challenged, it didn't matter even if he did, Howard loved dark haired, blue-eyed Dixie.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**** Here we are then. Boosh fans, chapter five! :D Big thanks to everyone who's reading and everyone's who reviewed or added me to story alerts, e.c.t. **

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Boosh and have sadly never met any of them :( *cries* **

**Warnings: Language **

_She _had stayed there all morning and all afternoon. Because Howard couldn't come to Dixie, Dixie had decided to come to him and parked her bottom down in the barber's chair, spending the whole time chatting away with him. Vince had watched on the sidelines, thinking how that chair was the chair he always sat in.

_Jazz bitch._

It was night now, and Vince was glaring at his reflection in the mirror after spending half-an-hour trying to cover up the scar on his face. It was going to fade in time, it wasn't as bad as he first thought, but he found himself not caring. He just didn't care about anything anymore, and although his brain cell was yelling at him that that was a dangerous attitude to have when you were going on a night out in the pitch dark, it was distant, almost like it was being shouted over bad radio communication.

He was ready, and outside in the kitchen he knew that Howard was alone having a tea, the smell of the hot beverage wafting into the room and making him wonder for a few seconds when the last time he ate was, before he decided that he just didn't care.

He wasn't sure for a minute as he stilled his hand on the doorknob whether or not he could face Howard, not after what he had done earlier, what he had thought about whilst doing it. However, to get out into the darkness he was going to have to walk past him, and as he stepped out into the hallway he saw that the kitchen door was almost wide open, the bright light making a golden pool on the floor.

'Hey,' Howard called, coming to the door, just as Vince thought he had gotten away with it and was almost at the door that led down into the shop.

Vince summoned his usual laidback expression onto his face, hoping he had got it right, and turned to face his best friend, 'Alright?'

'Are _you_?' Howard asked, looking at him carefully, 'You seem a bit... off lately,'

'Off?' Vince scoffed, 'What are you on about, Howard?' he smiled, his eyes not joining in and instead deciding to look somewhere completely different, that somewhere being his heeled shoes, refusing to move from their position.

'So you're firing on all cylinders are you sir?'

'Yup,' Vince answered simply, feeling ridiculous, like a little kid with a crush on someone in the school playground.

Howard looked at Vince, the younger man standing there scraping the toe of his boot along the wooden floor, all dressed up flamboyantly as usual, and wondered if a bit of friendly banter would make things feel less... awkward? Awkward shouldn't be right, couldn't be right; why was there an underlying tone of awkwardness between them now?

'Did you, er, get a welder in to weld you into those jeans?' Howard asked.

Vince looked up in time to see Howard smile slightly, flicking a loose strand of hair from his face as he did so; an action that Vince found himself smiling warmly to in response.

'I just got these recently,' he said, subconsciously running a hand down the taught onyx material, 'Tight jeans and things like this are really gettin' about at the moment. I don't mean like they're gettin' on buses and popping into _Greggs _and things by themselves, how weird would that be? I mean-' he stopped mid sentence, because Howard chuckled softly.

'I know what you mean, Little Man,' he said.

There was a pause, and Vince found himself thinking about how much he just couldn't wait to get away from Howard, before he said something stupid to him.

'Are you off out at this time of night?' Howard asked, drinking the last of his tea.

Vince looked at him, surprised; he was finally caring again, maybe, 'Well we could-'

'Only I'm gonna meet Dixie in an hour, and...'

Vince's hearing automatically stopped after the words 'I'm gonna meet Dixie'. Howard didn't care at all. All he cared about was her, he didn't care about what _he _was going to do on his night out, and he didn't care about anything else to do with him either.

'I've got to go actually, I'm meeting someone...' Vince blurted, feeling the blood pounding in his ears as he turned and hurried down the stairs and out into the dark.

_Dixie._

_Dixie._

_Dixie._

_**Dixie.**_

_Fucking little jazz bitch Dixie. _

_She was perfect to him, everything he could want._

_Dixie. _

Walking as fast as he could through the streets it almost felt like his thoughts were right behind him, ganging up on him and waiting to pounce and stab him in the back, thoughts that Howard probably considered to be too dark to even come for a visit into his sunny, glittery, strobe light mind.

Howard needed to realise that not everything was always great for him, that he could feel like crap too, just like everyone else. He wasn't some kind of glitter being that was devoid of negative emotion. He didn't want to have to put on a front to Howard all the time, something he had to do sometimes even before this whole Dixie business.

It was because Howard always expected him to be happy and sunny, and most of the time he was, but sometimes he would wake up and have a bad hair day and look in the mirror and feel like shit, but instead of coming into the kitchen for breakfast and showing his real feelings he'd have to turn on the million watt grin and cheeky eyes and bounce around the kitchen to Gary Numan so that Howard's image of him remained intact.

In some ways, he was scared about having a bad day or getting really angry in front of the jazz maverick; he didn't know how Howard would react if he knew how he truly felt some days. Howard was insecure and awkward, and Vince's sunshine personality seemed to remedy that most of the time. Vince worried that if Howard saw him really upset _he _would automatically get upset and start blaming himself, which would then risk the whole Chinese burn thing and...

He was suddenly surrounded by lights and the distant thump of music, lost in a throng of people, and he resigned to just throwing caution to the wind and being reckless like everyone else.

_This is well out of order_, his brain cell protested, _One day you're gonna do something stupid!_

_Something dangerous._

Vince stood in the middle of it all, head spinning, _I don't care, _he thought, _I just don't care. _

'Where's Vince?'

_Where's Vince._

Standing in the doorway of the _Nabootique_ the next morning, only having just walked through it with his arm around Dixie's waist, Howard held back the sigh- why was he always supposed to know where Vince Noir was, and more importantly, why was it always his fault if he didn't know the answer? He was always getting nagged at about it by Leroy or any of the other million people who came looking for Vince and couldn't find him. Someone was looking for _him_ now, Howard T. J. Moon, and they had found him, and their name was Dixie, and that was all he was concerned about.

'I'm serious,' Naboo said, arms folded, 'Where in monkey hell is Vince?'

'In his room?' Howard guessed with a sigh, leading Dixie into the shop.

'Does Vince not have his own mind?' she asked, smoothing down her skirt as she sat in the barber's chair, surprising even Howard slightly, because he had never heard her say anything like that, at least not in _that_ tone of voice. He was sure she meant it well though; she was just trying to stick up for him.

'He's not back from last night,' Naboo pressed, looking straight into Howard's eyes as if he could see right into his mind.

Howard shifted uncomfortably in the shaman's gaze, 'You know Vince; he probably... stayed at Leroy's?'

'I've already rang Leroy,'

'L-'

'And Le Cube,'

'Er-'

'And Nowé Nightsmoke,'

Howard looked at the floor.

This is what he hated about Vince's nights out. He left at a ridiculous time so that it was impossible to stay awake and wait for him, and even if you tried to, by the time he came back you'd have fallen asleep waiting. He always went right in the dark, right into the hoards and usually came back unscathed, which was why Howard never really worried all that much anymore- he had worried in the beginning, stayed up thinking about hundreds of what ifs and imagining the worst scenarios, but then Vince would come home drunk and rowdy and drawl something about Howard just going to bed and not acting like a mother hen, so the maverick now did exactly that.

'He's not even called,' Naboo said, walking past Dixie in the barber's chair like she wasn't even there, 'I've rang Bollo as well an' he ain't seen him. Flippin' peachy, isn't it?'

Howard felt a strange feeling welling in the pit of his stomach, stronger than worry. Whilst one part of him was panicking and imagining the worst, another part was thinking that everything would be fine, it was just Vince being Vince and he had probably gone home with some Camden Fashionista. Right then that was what he wanted to believe, or rather, had no choice but to believe, because Dixie was looking incredibly perturbed as she sat huffily in the chair.

'What the matter, baby?' he murmured, crouching down in front of her, taking her hand in his.

'That Noir is...' she flickered her lashes in an expression of indecision, before looking into Howard's small brown eyes with her own powerful blue ones, 'well, an idiot,' she was whispering it, so that Naboo who was on the phone again wouldn't hear.

'No he isn't,' Howard said almost immediately, 'He's my oldest and dearest friend. Yeah he's a little bit... slow on the uptake sometimes, but he's not an idiot,' he had to tear his gaze away from Dixie's, because she was looking at him so fiercely, like he really had done something awful for disagreeing with her.

'Do you think he really feels the same way about you?' she hissed in a whisper, 'I mean, he's the polar opposite of you, Howard darling, he's nothing and you are something,'

Howard frowned, 'Look, I don't know why you have a problem with Vince, but he's done nothing to you,'

Howard suddenly felt the pressure of Dixie's red fingernails lift from his hand, and until he felt the sudden sting he hadn't realised how hard she had been gripping.

'All I'm saying is that I'm tired of watching you chase him around. All that time spent following him around the place is time we could be spending together,' she leaned her head close to his, pressing a kiss to his mouth, 'You want that, don't you?'

**A/N 2:**** I'm sorry if everyone's depressed now! Don't blame me; it's all Dixie's fault! ;D I know I can't really ask for reviews if I don't review fics much myself, but the reason for that is the only computer I can get to with internet access is a library one, which makes it difficult. As soon as I get my internet laptop fixed I'll definitely get reviewing, I've lurked about the fandom and read some genius fics! **

**ElectroGirlNoir**

**X**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**** Bit worried about this chapter, it wrote itself, and that's never good, never let your chapters run away cos you ain't gettin' them back sir. I apologise for its length; it's long, don't leave the iron on, put it that way. **

**Disclaimer:**** I'm too busy chasing after this chapter to think of anything remotely amusing to say here which confirms that I don't own the Boosh. **

**Warnings: Language, Language! **

It was late afternoon when an army of Goths dropped an almost comatose Vince off at the _Nabootique_.

'Hell's tits...' Naboo swore from the counter, as Nowé Nightsmoke deposited Vince into the barber's chair, 'What happened?'

'He's one hell of a party animal by the looks of it,' someone said, 'We found him in the street on our way out of _Symphony,_'

'Just make sure you remind him he's got the part when he's finally sober, he wins, he's in the band,' Nowé said, as he and his team of mates hurried out of the shop, before any kind of blame was put on them.

Vince was lying in the chair, almost falling out of it and tears were rolling down his cheeks. He couldn't even focus on Naboo's face as the small shaman looked down at him.

'Fuckin' 'ell Vince, what have you done?'

Vince laughed, eyes rolling back into his head and uttered three words that were barely audible let alone intelligible,

'I. Don't. Care...'

Naboo called for Bollo with a sigh, struggling to stop Vince just falling to the floor, 'Vince...'

Bollo came down into the shop and took in the scene, scratching his head, 'What Vince do?'

'What does it look like?' Naboo sighed, leaning backward a little as Vince waved his arm about and almost hit him in the face, 'Can ya ring Howard?'

'Yeah,'

When Dixie answered and said he was busy, Bollo growled, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest.

'Dixie,' He told Naboo quietly.

Vince was sobbing now, unable to even lift his head up, 'I'm sorry,' he choked, 'I'm really, really sorry!' he coughed hard, taking great, shuddering breaths, 'I...' he coughed again, 'I fuckin' hate her!'

Naboo put his arms under Vince's and awkwardly pulled him up into a better sitting position, turning to look sternly at Bollo, 'You tell her to go to hell and get Howard to get his fat arse back 'ere now, they're all ballbags!'

Howard knew to expect a scene when he got into the shop, just not quite as bad a scene as what he got.

'_I hate you!_' Vince screamed at him as soon as he set foot in the doorway, '_I REALLY, REALLY HATE YOU, HOWARD MOON!_'

'What's... going on...?' Howard murmured, alarmed to see Vince looking so ill.

Vince pulled free of Naboo and Bollo's grip and curled into a ball on the floor, hands gripping his hair tightly. He yelled something illegible as Howard gently helped him up.

'Vince, what have you done?' he said softly.

Vince was trying hard to focus on the taller man, 'I fuckin' rang you; someone had a _knife_... You wasn't gonna come help me... you... _fucksake! Just get off me!_'

Howard held his wrists as he tried to pull free, 'That's not true,' he said, 'Dixie had my phone for reasons unbeknownst to me sir-'

'Cos she's a bitch!' Vince fell against Howard, chest heaving, the room spinning like a surreal fairground ride, 'She's... she's... she's a _bitch_...! She's a bitch an' you don't see it cos you're too busy fu-'

'_Bullshite_, my friend!' Howard snapped, wrapping his arms tightly around Vince to keep him upright and still, 'Why have you gotta do this, eh? Why have you gotta go on a little attention seeking mission every time I turn my back to you?'

Naboo and Bollo looked at one another, hardly able to believe a scenario like this was turning into an argument when one participant was completely off his head and the other was a ballbag.

'Christ, are you bleeding?' Howard moved back slightly when he saw the blood that was smeared on his shirt and looked at Vince's hand, where there was a gash in the middle of his palm, the blood trickling down his pale wrist, 'What have you done now?'

'_Someone came at me with a fucking knife_!' Vince sobbed, pushing against Howard with what little strength he had in him, trying to get away, but at the same time needing to just be held close, especially if it was by Howard, '_I just told you!_'

'Who!' Howard exclaimed.

'I dunno; _pixies_!' Vince spat, 'or elves or some sparkly friggin' thing, cos that's the only thing that can try and hurt me right Howard, just glitter? Maybe it wasn't a knife at all, maybe it was a magic wand, cos I don't have feelings, do I, I don't feel like crap if...' he stopped as the room span, shuddering, not realising how impossible it was for other people to understand a word of what he was saying, feeling Howard hold him tighter. He didn't want to speak anymore; he didn't want to think because his mind was filled with thick fog, all he wanted was to exist without actually feeling like he were existing, just how Howard made him feel nowadays.

'I swear,' Howard said, holding Vince tight as he sobbed into his chest, 'Dixie had my phone; I didn't even know you rang me just now until I walked in on her answering it, let alone earlier!'

Vince struggled again, but didn't utter a word.

'What was she doing with-' Naboo stopped mid-sentence, waving a hand, 'It's nearly closing time. Just look after Vince alright, we'll talk later,'

Naboo watched Vince and Howard stagger awkwardly up the stairs, before turning to Bollo.

'We're not gonna get too involved in this, alright?' the shaman said.

Bollo nodded slowly, 'Sometimes difficult though. Vince and Howard fight, but Vince fall apart without Howard; do silly things,'

'Exactly,' Naboo nodded, 'There's nothing we can do anyway. Howard needs to realise that for himself,'

'I'm not gonna keep standing around letting you do this every time my direct attention isn't aimed at you, sir,' Howard said to Vince, in the living room. They had been having some kind of weird, lackadaisical argument for at least five minutes, the same points bouncing around the room and coming back again like a boomerang.

Vince, standing precariously by the sofa, glared at Howard, 'You've got no idea... you... you... you...' he frowned and laughed humourlessly, 'I dunno what I was gonna say...'

Howard looked at him hard, eyes filled with compassion and anger, 'Why do you do this?' he spread his hands in a gesture of defeat, 'Why do you have to do this _every_ s_ingle time_, Vince?'

Vince looked at him, eyes still unfocused, blinking wearily.

'Every time a girl used to so much as _look _at me you'd run off and do something stupid,' Howard said, 'I'm not angry with you, I just don't understand why you can't just let me be happy-'

'_Let you be happy_?' Vince exclaimed. He literally didn't know what to say, the mixture of his fogged mind and the anger pulsing through his veins making him draw a blank. The room spun dangerously, and his emotions crashed together like a tidal wave; the urge to scream and shout battling with the urge to just stand there and cry. He wanted to throw something across the room as much as he wanted to tell Howard that he loved him.

Howard stood watching him carefully, trying to work out what Vince was feeling. Sure, Vince went on nights out and did stupid things, but this was monumentally stupid, and he hated watching it, hated seeing one of the two people he cared about most in the world coming home so messed up.

It was a strange atmosphere in the room, neither of them being able to believe how things had changed, and neither of them being able to understand _why_ this lax argument had come about. They were both stuck in an equally muddling whirlwind of thoughts, and they were too preoccupied with that to really pay attention to what they were saying to each other.

'You can smash all my records if you want, if that would make you feel better,' Howard said to Vince, more calmly when he noticed the tears running down the smaller man's cheeks and the way he swayed precariously, 'You can wreck everything I own if you're angry with me, but don't do this to yourself, Vince. One day something bad might happen, and I can't always be around to pick up the pieces now that Dixie's around,'

'_For fucksakes_...' Vince whimpered, thinking '_It's still about Dixie' _and deciding to give up there and then- Howard was happy with Dixie, and if he loved Howard he'd want him to be happy, which he did. He loved Howard so much he'd do anything, even if he didn't like it. He just wished he'd realised that before Dixie had come along.

Through his haze, the room seeming to spin faster and faster, Vince saw Howard, saw him looking so upset and tired, and it made his heart sink because he didn't want to regale him with awful tales of his night out, he just wanted him back.

He knew though that if he did get Howard back without Dixie, the jazz maverick would be unhappy. He'd never seen such a true, handsome smile on Howard's face as when he was with Dixie, and as much as that hurt, he wanted to see more, wanted to see him really happy, not awkward and upset with telltale redraw skin around his writs, smiling that smile where you could still see the sadness in his eyes.

'It's alright,' he said, stumbling towards the bathroom, feeling sick, his legs still trembling, 'I'm fine. I... I lied about the whole thing with the knife, yeah, I just...' he took a breath, tried to make the lie more convincing, 'I did it cos...' he forced his protesting brain cell to come up with something believable; 'you didn't notice my hair...' it was self-centred enough for Howard to fall for it, and he felt himself falling downwards and Howard catch his arm, 'Help me, Howard, I feel sick...'

'It's alright,' the older man said quietly, helping him to walk to the bathroom, 'It's alright...'

The digital clock read **2:30 am **when Vince finally fell asleep. Howard sat on the edge of his bed, watching his breathing, making sure he was okay. He noticed that he looked thinner than usual and even paler. He didn't want Vince to keep doing things like that; he wanted Vince to be happy that he was happy, not angry and full of hate almost, in a rage that he'd never seen before. Why whenever anybody liked him did Vince go all huffy and...

_Jealous_

Jealous? He almost laughed at the thought; Vince could never be jealous of the fact that he and Dixie were _together_; it was just because _he_ wanted attention, that was all. Even so, that was no excuse to go to the extreme and pretend that someone had come at him with a knife. How had he cut himself though?

He sighed, a million thoughts spinning around in his head like leaves in a lake that had been sent swirling in a little water whirlwind by a kid with a stick. Why had Dixie taken his phone and then not told him when it had rung all that time ago? And then why had she answered it when Bollo rung earlier instead of just calling for him?

Then he remembered in the shop, when she had gripped his hand so hard she had left nail marks in his skin. Why had she done that?

His phone suddenly rang, and he hurried outside so that the trill wouldn't wake up Vince, though he doubted it would anyway.

'Hello, Dixie?'

'Where are you?' not a nice tone, just cold and harsh.

'The _Nabootique_,' Howard answered, 'what's the matter?'

'Why didn't you come back?' she snapped in reply.

'I had no choice,' he told her in protest, alarmed at the way she was speaking to him. Sure, she snapped at him quite a lot sometimes, she definitely seemed nicer when they were in front of people, but she was never quite this nasty sounding.

'So in other words you spent the time with that moron?'

'Look,' Howard told her, 'Vince's was in a state, he-'

'If he isn't the moron that I think he is, he can look after himself, can't he?' her tone suddenly changed, all sweet and tender, 'I missed you, Howard. Don't you think Vince is stopping us from being together?'

Maybe she was right. Howard shut the door quietly, thinking that Dixie was in fact spot on; Vince did stop them from being together, didn't he?

'Howard...'

At the sound of Vince's voice behind him, Howard turned to see him standing in the bedroom doorway, leaning on the frame and gripping the door handle with his free hand for support. His cheeks were flushed and he wobbled unsteadily.

'What's the matter Vince?' he asked, concerned, putting his hand over the mouthpiece.

'I can hear you!' Dixie hissed down the line, '_and I'm really starting to get quite angry_...'

Howard swallowed, looking at Vince, who was now crouching in the doorway, expression weary and distant, looking like that lively spark had been completely drowned out.

'_Are you listening to me_?' Dixie hissed into his ear, '_We don't want another incident like the china plate fiasco, do we_?'

Howard felt his insides twist; 'No,' he answered, keeping his voice level, looking at Vince who was shuddering in the doorway.

'Well then,' her tone was all sweet again, dripping with affection like it was her evil twin who had just been threatening him and not her at all, 'I want a conversation with you, sweetie, so...'

Howard took a breath, speaking loudly so that Dixie would hear, 'Vince, get back in bed, I'm trying to talk to Dixie, it's your own fault,'

Vince looked up at Howard through his hair, eyes shinning, and held up his still shaking hand, showing Howard the bandaged wound where the blood was seeping thickly through the white of the material.

Howard heard Dixie huff impatiently down the phone, 'Vince,' he said, 'Just go back to bed and wait,'

Vince stood up, but then he stumbled forwards, eyelids fluttering, 'Howard...' he murmured, 'I'm gonna faint...'

It was Bollo that caught Vince, rushing out of the bedroom he shared with Naboo, the pale Goth fairy falling into his arms.

Naboo poked his head around the door, missing his turban, running a hand through black hair, 'Wha's goin' on?'

Howard was still giving Dixie yes and no answers down the phone, giving her compliments that he didn't really feel she deserved anymore, never taking his eyes off of Vince who was limp in Bollo's arms.

When their phone conversation ended, Howard was struggling to feel anything, because he didn't know what to feel- he had kept telling himself that Dixie was perfect, but the fact that she wasn't was becoming more and more clear.

He headed into the living room where Naboo and his familiar had taken Vince, and when he stepped into the room, Bollo was tying a new bandage tightly around Vince's hand, said man lying still on the sofa, Naboo waving his hands nearly lazily above him and uttering a chant, some kind of healing spell, Howard guessed.

'Is he alright?' Howard's voice shattered the silence, as he came to stand by the sofa.

'You stay on phone,' Bollo growled, 'Vince was going to fall,'

'I...' Howard was lost for words, a yanking feeling in his heart making his chest ache as he looked at Vince lying so still and breathing softly through parted pale lips.

When he turned to look helplessly at Naboo, the shaman's eyes locked onto his own, looking _through_ them it seemed, pinning Howard to the spot. If he didn't know any better he would have thought the shaman was reading his mind, ransacking the drawers containing his innermost thoughts.

'If you feel that way, what are you doing with someone who's treated ya like that?' Naboo spoke suddenly, unlocking his eyes from the much taller man's and frowning at him.

'What?' Howard was taken aback, 'How do you...'

'If you know that you're bein' a ballbag then why are ya keepin' on with it?' Naboo folded his arms across his chest, 'I'll let you explain that one, yeah?'

Howard laughed harshly, pointing at the shaman, feeling anger welling from nowhere, 'I know what you're trying to do sir,'

'I'm not tryin'a do anythin','

'Yes you are,' Howard nodded, 'It's some kind of reverse psychology thing, isn't it?'

'No,' Naboo replied, with an almost disgusted frown, 'what a waste a' time that would be. I just had a little look in ya mind, lot easier that way,'

Howard, feeling rather mortified at what Naboo might have just found out, still refused to believe, 'No...'

'Think of a question to do with you that only you'll know and I tell ya the answer,' Naboo said, without a hint of uncertainty.

Howard thought for a minute, before nodding, 'Okay,'

The shaman locked his eyes onto his again, with that same unnerving stare, then smiled knowingly, and gave his answer, 'because her hair and eyes reminded you of the person you really love,'

'What?' Howard exclaimed, 'That's not the answer!'

'Yeah it is, you're just denying it,' Naboo answered, 'You know it's true, you can only keep tellin' yourself she's the one you love for so long,'

'There's a lot of people in the world with black hair and blue eyes sir,' Howard protested, watching Bollo place a cool damp cloth on Vince's burning forehead, brushing strands of his shiny black hair from his face as he did so.

'Put it this way,' Naboo said, 'I know who it is, you know who it is, they ain't that far away from us an' it isn't Bollo,'

'Thank Christy for that,' the gorilla grumbled, 'I was startin' to worry,'

The shaman and his familiar shuffled out of the room eventually, leaving Howard alone to watch Vince. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling tired and then remembering that it was probably well into the reaches of three o'clock in the morning by now.

He thought back to earlier, about what Dixie had said to him, the way she had spoken. He wondered if Naboo knew about the china plate incident.

Kneeling beside the sofa he almost absentmindedly stroked Vince's hair, comforting himself as much he was comforting Vince, pleased to feel that his temperature wasn't as high as he placed his hand on his forehead before moving to stroke his hair again.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered to him, finally giving in to the thoughts that had been plaguing him, 'I'm really sorry, Little Man... I know I've been ignoring you... I...' he thought about what Naboo had said; of course it was true, there was someone who wasn't Dixie who he loved more than anything and anyone, ever. They didn't maliciously put him down by making weird little snippy comments, or throw china plates at him.

He was surprised by the tears that were suddenly burning in his eyes as he whispered the words close to Vince's ear:

'_I love you._'

**XxxX**

When Vince awoke the next morning he was on the sofa, and there, lying on the floor, was Howard, fast asleep wrapped in a blanket. He smiled as he looked down at him, then remembered last night and wondered why he _could _remember last night and why he didn't have one mother-flippa' of a hangover, coming to the conclusion that Naboo must have done some well genius juju on him.

'Howard,' he whispered, getting off the sofa slowly and kneeling down beside the sleeping Northerner, 'what you doin' on the floor?' he brushed stray strands of hair from the older man's face as he stirred and murmured something.

'C'mon, it eleven-thirty,' Vince said, surprised as he said it, looking up at the clock just to check if he'd read it wrong; he never had been that good at telling time.

Howard sat up slowly, opening his eyes to meet with Vince's, hair pointing in every possible direction, 'Vince?'

Vince couldn't help smiling at him; he looked attractively dishevelled, 'Why are you on the floor, Small Eyes?' he asked, softly.

Howard shrugged and then winced at the pain the motion created, 'Me back...' he muttered.

Vince laughed eyes shining, glad to be waking up to Howard and not an empty room, even if it was in weird circumstances.

'I was worried about you, and I didn't want to move you so I just slept down here on the floor,' Howard yawned, looking at the clock, '_Eleven-thirty and gone_!'

Vince couldn't help the feeling of affection that bubbled up inside him for Howard and his little ways, and before it could overwhelm him he leant forward and slid his arms around the larger man's waist, expecting him to shriek 'don't touch me!' or leap up like he'd been burned, even that would have done; at least it would have been a shred of normalcy, but what did happen was even better and unexpected.

Howard hugged Vince to him, his strong arms wrapping around his skinny body, and Vince pressed his face into the join between his neck and shoulder, Howard resting his chin gently on top of Vince's head. They stayed there until each's breathing was tuned to the other, until they lost track of time and until they no longer cared whether hours, seconds or minutes had gone by.

'Erm... er, you two?'

Naboo's voice made them break apart, their faces flushed.

'Get down in the shop; I've got Nightsmoke on the phone, Dixie in the barber's chair, an 'alf a ton o' customers going on about a 'Celebradar,''

Both Vince and Howard felt their strange little world where nothing else had existed or mattered fading away to reveal the scar of the past days and a hectic day ahead.

**X**

It wasn't easy serving the cue of customers at the _Celebradar_ and having an important conversation with Nowé Nightsmoke at the same time, but Vince managed it rather well. He had been over the moon at first to have heard the news that he was in the band, but when he realised _where_ the band was actually based and how it was going to be the stuff of nightmares to get there and back everyday, meaning he would have to move into the flat with the band over the other side of town, he wasn't so sure.

Dixie was sat in the barber's chair, legs crossed, glaring in disgust at the cue of glitzy people that were crammed into the shop and now starting to spill out onto the street like liquid noise been set in a winding serpent mould of living breathing beings.

Vince was surprised and pleased that Howard hadn't spoken to her either, his reasons being one- because Howard had said they were going through some kind of rough patch and he wanted to give her time to calm down, and two- because he couldn't really get through the people-serpent that seemed to have just filled the shop completely, like sweets in a jar.

Vince agreed nonetheless to move in with the band, because then at least he wouldn't have to watch Howard and Dixie together. He thought back to the morning, when he had felt so content in Howard's arms, more peaceful than he could ever remember. He wondered if Dixie would move in with Howard instead of the other way round, and they would wake up together in the room that he and Howard had always shared. The thought of her moving into that room, erasing the memories, tearing them away made his insides knot together, twisting in a pang of resentment.

**X**

It was five-thirty when Vince could finally tell Howard the news that he was leaving. He had tried several times to tell him over the heads/hats/pompadours of customers, but it had just been too difficult, like trying to hold a conversation with someone the other side of a wall. Dixie had stormed out during this in some kind of weird rage, and Vince had been surprised when Howard didn't chase after her.

He waited in the silence of the shop, watching Howard pull down the shutters and then come in again to flip the sign over to '_closed_'.

'There's something I wanted to ask you about,' the tall northerner said, turning to look at Vince who was perched on the counter.

'Oh, yeah,' Vince nodded, wondering what.

'How did you cut your hand then?' Howard asked, not really wanting to bring the subject up and looking at the floor, hoping he hadn't put his foot in it; an argument would just about finish chipping the day away into the weird, confusing, tiring, sharp point in his side that it had mostly been.

Vince could almost hear his brain cell riffling through paperwork, sending it flurrying into the air, fluttering past slow enough for him to read the false answers, all of them pretty useless.

'Er...' he knew he could just tell Howard that yeah, someone had come at him with a knife and he had struck a hand out and grabbed it in the middle of the bar fight, turning the point away from him, but he knew what Howard was like, he knew that he would blame himself for it.

'Don't worry about that,' he continued, smiling reassuringly, 'Just some broken glass. Listen, there's somethin' I really need to tell you, Howard,'

Howard looked at Vince, the guilt glittering in his eyes, 'Er... is it gonna take long...you know... Dixie...'

'No,' the word came out almost as a complete sigh, 'I just need to tell you somethin' about the band, s'all...' even though things felt more amicable between them there was still this weird causative sadness that made Vince want to just run away from everything causing it and take Howard with him. He missed their adventures with Naboo and Bollo; even though they had usually ended in some kind of lucky escape, it was just nice to be together, and now they were going to do something he had once thought would never happen- they were going to be apart for more than a few hours.

'C'mere,' Vince murmured, noticing Howard's tangled tie and beckoning him over to where he sat on the counter.

Howard came over apprehensively, and Vince impatiently grabbed hold of the strip of material and pulled him forwards a little too hard, so that Howard ended up between his legs. Neither noticed at first, and Vince untangled his tie.

'You've only started wearing ties now she's about,' he told him sternly, 'you can't do ties Howard, they're not your thing, you get them all tangled up,'

Howard noticed first, looking down and seeing Vince's strong thighs holding him in place. He felt the burn rising up the sides of his face, and hoped that Vince wouldn't see he was blushing, but when he looked down he saw that the smaller man was intently focused on the tie, pale, slender fingers moving swiftly, and tongue snaking out and flicking momentarily over his lips as he subconsciously wet them.

Vince didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until he carefully finished straightening Howard's tie. He looked up and was caught off guard by the intense look in the other man's eyes. His hands remained holding onto his tie but he made a useless attempt to stop touching Howard's legs with his own, ending up with them in exactly the same position as before, if not closer.

Howard's gaze was locked onto Vince's, and the need to move away from the intensity of the moment was easily overpowered by the need to stay. He told himself that he was wrong to sense a heat blazing through the room, that the sparkling in Vince's eyes wasn't unguarded desire, and he was further confused when Vince's expression changed faintly to what looked like one of indecision.

Vince found himself wondering what would happen if he just pulled Howard downwards by his tie and kissed him now, in the shop. A part of him wanted to just go ahead and do so, hoping that there was still time to show Howard how he felt, but another part was too frightened of what would change if he kissed Howard and he responded, or even worse, if the kiss was rejected.

He needn't have spent the time worrying, because Howard suddenly decided for him.

**A/N 2:**** Phew. That chapter sure could run sir, like a speeding bullet, chika chika!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:**** I'm actually getting writer's block a bit, so this is quite a short chapter; sorry it if it's not very good! Big thanks to all my readers and reviewers; it's you guys who have kept the story going for seven chapters! :D**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own the Boosh, and a pencil in a hat stole all my amusing disclaimers. **

**Warnings: Don't really think there is any... maybe the teeny bit of slash at the start...?**

As Howard moved slightly to put his hands down on the counter either side of his body, Vince thought his heart was beating so hard and fast that Naboo and Bollo would hear it upstairs. He wasn't sure what to think or what to do as the larger man bent his head and leaned in towards him, even though he wanted it so badly. Something held him back, the thought that everything would changer forever...

He was still holding onto Howard's tie; it was a lifeline, a _leash_- he could pull him downwards against him hard, "_yes"_, or yank him away from him, "_stop"_.

He was as turned-on by the fact that Howard was making the first move as he was surprised, and the moment Howard's lips brushed against his own, stubble and moustache tickling his skin, he moaned, clenching the muscles in his thighs around the other man's body-

'_**What's goin' on in 'ere**_!'

At the sound of Naboo's voice, Vince and Howard broke apart like they had been scalded, Vince pushing Howard backwards, Howard staggering into the coat stand, spinning around and trying to pretend he had been organising some of the bric-a-brac on the shelf.

Naboo looked from Vince to Howard, arms folded, eyebrows raised, '...'

'Just tidying the shop up, Naboo, almost didn't see you come in there...' Howard faltered with a grin that was more a grimace.

'Mmm...' Vince agreed jumping down from the counter, 'Naboo- the shaman with the stealth of a cobra...' he took refuge in one of his nervous habits, nibbling on his thumbnail, and both Howard and Vince gathered the last of their scattered wits to crimp:

_Oooh, cobra man,_

_Catch him if you can,_

_Creepin' in the kitchen,_

_Sleuthing in the shop_

_Stop!_

_Danger _

_A rave-er _

_The demon blood craver,_

_Magic medium_

_Supernatural sage,_

_Mystic with a Xooberonian age_

_The voodoo times._

'I meant before that,' Naboo said, 'the bit where it looked like you were goin' frisky on my counter,'

'He... had somethin' on his tie...' Vince muttered.

'I'll bet.' The shaman dead-panned, 'Anyway, I came to say that me an' Bollo are goin' out in a minute, so don't touch my stuff,' he screwed his face up into an expression of mild disgust, 'An' if you are gonna do that sort of stuff, you might not wanna do it in full view of the window? It's bad for business,'

Howard gave a clearly false, over-the-top laugh, 'We don't do _that_, do we eh Vince?'

Vince just raised his eyebrows, pretending to be engrossed in one of the silver buckles on his outfit, 'Whatever,'

'I'm er, off to see Dixie now,' Howard said awkwardly, breaking a small pause and heading swiftly out of the door, setting his hat on his head before starting down the road.

Vince found he didn't have the energy to be angry or even confused; the emotions from being that intimate with Howard had drained all the fight from him, and all he could do was stand there looking at his shoes, thinking about the fact that Howard had just attempted to kiss him and the feel of his mouth on his.

'Have you told 'im?'

'Wha?' Vince frowned, head cocked to the side, smile absent.

'Have you told 'im that you're leavin' tomorrow?' Naboo asked.

Vince shook his head, 'Didn't really get a chance. Anyway, 'e's too busy thinkin' about Make-Up Village Woman,'

Naboo looked like he was going to say something else, but then he didn't, and Vince clomped upstairs to the flat.

**XXX**

Vince watched from the open bedroom window as the stretch carpet pulled up outside the Nabootique, the brightness of it and its passengers standing out vividly, the sight making him forget his tears. Naboo and Bollo made their way out of the shop, whispering about something, but then stopped because the squabbling going on on the carpet made it too difficult to hear one another.

Tony Harrison paused in his tirade of insults, several tentacles still raised in Saboo's direction, 'Ewwwwwwwh, what's goin' on in there?'

The other shaman slapped them away angrily, 'My friend, I think you should be more concerned about finishing what's going on out _here_ instead of trying to get out of it by poking your nose in mortal affairs,'

'Ewwwwwwwh, tryin'a get out of it? You squire, are talking nonsense! I don't get out of fights; I get in 'em!'

'Really, is that so?' Saboo raised an eyebrow.

'Yeah, it is, you've seen me go, you're in for it Saboo, you ballbag!'

'Oh roll off, Tony Harrison,'

'Roll off? What's that supposed to mean?'

'It doesn't mean anything-'

'Were you referring to my method of going about my way?' Harrison jabbed a tentacle at Saboo, who simply moved back out of reach, 'I'll 'ave you know I walk like everyone else!'

'Lies! Absolute slander! I've seen you rolling your way down to Shamansbury's like last week's Hubba Bubba!'

'Yeah, well that's when I'm running late. On the odd occasion that I've left something on the boil, I might roll my way down there, save time, pick up groceries along the way-'

Dennis held up a hand and silence descended not only over the carpet, but the entire street.

'Does anybody have an A-Z?' he asked, 'my internal TomTom appears to be about to send us the wrong way up a motorway,'

''ave you put the right address in?' Harrison asked.

'Of course,'

'The next time I say let's stop off and get an A-Z,' Saboo grumbled, 'Maybe we'll all listen...'

'May I remind you, Saboo, that when we put in the address for that shop, it sent us into the path of a speeding juggernaut and we spent thirteen minutes at The Crunch...?'

Vince chuckled, solemnly remembering all the light-hearted little arguments he and Howard used to have in the van over music and directions, as the stretch carpet pulled away into the air.

At least when he left tomorrow, he'd have some good memories.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**** Chapter Eight! :D Everything's still a bit dodgy on the Writer's Block front so sorry if this chapter isn't very good. It's short and mainly about Vincey :D**

**Disclaimer:**** I had once again accidentally shut myself in my room and had to pick me way out with a lolly stick cos this time no-one was home- I didn't have time to think up an amusing disclaimer. (All true, by the way, 'twas most traumatic, I had to wedge the lolly stick betwixt the door lock)**

**Warnings: Language**

Vince juggled his phone from hand to hand, sitting on his bed. It was late, really late, and Howard was still with Dixie.

He was starting to think that what had happened earlier had been his imagination. Maybe he'd wanted it so much his brain cell had put some kind of slideshow together that had played whilst Howard (in actual and more credible fact) panicked and tried to get away. Maybe Vince had pulled him downwards and forced his lips onto his, and Naboo had come in just before Howard had the chance to push him away.

If, on the other hand, Howard really had had a moment of bravery and really become a Man of Action, and he had gone to kiss him, what was he doing with Dixie? Was he too scared to be with Vince? Was it because they were both men? Maybe Vince had made him feel confused, and Howard had been momentarily attracted to his feminine looks. Or maybe he wanted them both?

Because surely Howard hadn't tried to kiss him acting on true feelings?

He paused after he had removed his make-up and combed his hair for bed, looking at the tired lines under his eyes and the scar on his face and his bandaged hand.

_Fuckin' ugly, you are_, he told himself.

He remembered all of a sudden that he hadn't packed a suitcase, and lugged it out from under his bed. For some reason, it just reminded him of all the places he'd ever been with Howard, and he burst into tears, pressing his hands to his face.

_He was sick of this._

It was getting out of hand. He didn't fall in love, he played the field. He didn't really want to stay with Howard forever, did he?

But he knew he did, and it hurt.

He'd always imagined love to hurt, sort of bittersweet, like a bonbon with a sword through it. That was the reason why he'd never wanted to fall in love; what was the point, if you had to go through all those feelings first and if the result was a broken heart anyway?

But now here he was, in love with Howard Moon of all people, sitting on the floor with tears running down his face and his head in his hands. It went against everything he stood for.

Everything he didn't seem to stand for anymore.

What did he stand for?

What, exactly, was he doing?

'Fucksake...' he threw one of his heels across the room half-heartedly.

'Vince?' Naboo called through the door, ''Ave you packed yet?'

'Doing it now,'

'Ave you even rung the band yet?'

'Doing it now,'

'What, at this hour?'

'They're of the night, Naboo, they sleep all day hangin' upside down from their bedroom ceilings; I've seen 'em,'

'Right, whatever,' Naboo's voice drifted blankly through the door.

Vince listened and waited until he heard the shaman's tiny footsteps fading away with a mumble of "Bollo? Stick the kettle on," before he let out a shaky sigh.

Nothing made sense. It didn't add up. It reminded Vince of when he was back at school: he had been hopeless in maths; the numbers had taunted him until he had drawn faces on them to help pass the time. He'd gotten into trouble once for giving the number seven on his maths textbook a quiff. Whenever he had tried to solve an equation it had never worked; the answer had always come out all wrong no matter what way he had tried to add the numbers together.

Tomorrow, he would be gone, and he couldn't quite believe it. Somewhere deep down he knew that this wasn't about the band and never had been; it was all about getting away. He was thinking of phoning Howard, telling him that he needed him to come home so that he could tell him what was going on and say goodbye properly, but he knew it probably wouldn't work.

Forget it, _of course_ it wouldn't work.

**XXX**

Pack everything black.

That was what he decided to do in the end, just pack every item of clothing that was in his wardrobe and black. He was surprised to find that he didn't have many dark, sombre clothes that the band demanded. He really had been a sunshine kid, just like Howard had said, and had so little clothes that were remotely dark enough he didn't even need to enlist the help of Bollo to shut it all in.

'Vince?' Naboo again; ''ave you 'ad any dinner?'

'Yeah,' it was a lie.

**XXX**

Howard was still at Dixie's place the next morning. Vince had waited around, but when he had rung and got nothing but crap from Dixie he said goodbye to Naboo and Bollo and headed out into the street.

_Where are you going, Vince Noir?_

Vince smiled faintly as he walked down the street towards the station; it was just a funny little song Howard had made up on the spot once, when they had been rehearsing on stage for a gig and he had gone to storm out about to throw the mother of all hissy-fits because someone had been moaning about something to do with lighting.

Howard's gentle voice, singing words he was just picking out of the air had made him stop in the doorway, and Vince had never really paid attention to how Howard sung before, but that day he had listened, and that, he realised, had been the first time he had felt that intense feeling, and butterflies had fluttered in his stomach, the same feeling that he knew all to well now.

_Where are you going, Vince Noir?_

'I don't know,' Vince said quietly, 'not really...' he looked around the street, wondered for a moment if he should just go back into the Nabootique, but he knew that even if he did it would make no difference- the one person he wanted wasn't there.

He kept on walking.

**A/N:**** I know, I know, it's sad, and I'm sorry! ;D** **There'll probably be a 'We All Hate Dixie' group on the forum by now, hah! XD It will get better eventually, I promise! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:**** Another teeny chapter, mainly to do with Howard this time :D**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Mighty Boosh and apologise for owning Dixie. What an awful character she is.**

'Where's Vince?' Howard wanted to know when he finally came back to the shop.

Naboo was amused; Howard looked worn out, and not in a way that insinuated that he'd been getting up to certain things with Dixie, it was in a way that insinuated that he was well and truly fed up.

'He's gone,' the shaman replied from behind the counter.

'What d'you mean he's gone?' Howard demanded, throwing his hat up onto the stand.

'He's gone to the band,' Naboo replied, dead-pan as usual.

'_What do you mean "he's gone to the band"!' _Howard almost shouted, wringing his hands, brow furrowed, eyes glittering.

''as something happened?' Naboo wanted to know, 'Vince 'as gone to be in the band, across town. He tried to tell you, but-'

'When's he coming back?' Howard looked like he was poised to do something, but Naboo wasn't sure if it was trash the place or run back out the door, 'Why didn't he tell me? Why... why...' Howard took a breath.

The shaman squinted hard at the taller man, 'What's that mark on ya face? 'Ave you 'bin in a fight with a crack fox cos ya face is all covered in scratches;' he sighed impatiently, 'What's going on?'

'Er...?' Howard frowned, 'What are you talking about...?' he mumbled, grabbing his hat again and shoving it on his head in an attempt to hide his face somewhat, 'nothing,' he hurried past the shaman and up the stairs to the flat, 'It's all nothing to worry about...'

**XXX**

He really was gone. The room didn't seem as bright. Usually, he would walk in to find Vince sprawled over his bed in a colourful kimono, applying make up. Howard sat down on his own bed, running his hands through his hair.

Nothing was ever straightforward anymore, and it frustrated him. It reminded him of when he was at school, in English, and the class had been given poems in which they had to find the deeper meaning, and answer questions like:

_What did the writer mean by that?_

_Why did the writer use this description?_

_What do you think the writer was really trying to say here?_

That was what he seemed to have to do with everyday situations now. He had always wondered why a poem just couldn't be a poem. Why couldn't what was written on the page be what it was, why was there always some other undercurrent to whatever was written in the prose?

If he and Vince's relationship lately was a poem, he'd still be trying to find the deeper meaning of the first stanza. He had thoughts about certain parts of it, but everything was so very muddled, and then there was Dixie...

A large piece of paper left on Vince's bed distracted him from his thoughts.

It was a drawing he had done, of a glass heart that was shattering into pieces, and the broken pieces were falling downwards and turning into tears that were trickling into a little vial being held by a nymph with a broken wing.

Beautiful, weird, but incredibly sad.

Soon, there wouldn't be anyone in this room, because he was going to move in with Dixie.

That was the easiest thing to do, the safe thing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note which everyone must read cos it's important**_**;D **_**: **

**Hey! Love to everyone for your reviews! Sorry if I haven't had the chance to reply to anything anyone's sent me yet, I can't wait until my laptop with internet's fixed cos I still have to trundle down to the library (which is full of crazy people and loud kids) and wait for hours to get on a computer (There are only two of them, the other two are kids' territory and never available)...**

**Anyway, still without a band and armed only with a keyboard the length of a zebra crossing, I have started writing the rest of the lyrics to "**_**where are you going, Vince Noir?**_**" as requested. :D Funnily enough, I have another song I wrote which sounds as if it's based on this story :P**

**Lastly, I'm sorry for the shortness of this chapter and the next, I promise the one after these two will be long, but there's a lot of little things to get out of the way first. Enjoy! :D**

**Disclaimer:**** I am still recovering from the shock that my family know Gary Numan's Wife (**_**Why did no one tell me this before!) seriously, they casually brought it up whilst I was dancing about to **_**"Cars"- to even think of a disclaimer.**

**Warnings: Language**

_**Three weeks later...**_

The flat was empty. Or it could have been full, depending on whether you were calling it a rubbish bin or not. There were items of outdoor clothing and empty cans all over the place, Vince's psychedelic drawings for their stage backdrops and posters strewn all around the room, Nowé and Syd tended to use the entire place as an ashtray, and there was a mountain of unwashed dishes in the sink.

Vince waded through the mess and found himself in the small kitchen, leaning against a counter and listening to the vague sounds outside: the rain pattering against the windows, a train in the distance, several birds squawking in a tree (apparently they were arguing over planning permission with the birds in the tree adjacent) and then the sound of footsteps on their way into the flat.

'Vince? Are you in here?'

It was Kaine, the drummer. Everyone said he was more of a confuser than Vince. Vince didn't agree.

'Yeah,' he replied, voice muffled as he chewed on his thumbnail.

Kaine came into the kitchen, gripping the door handle and pausing in the door to pant for breath, using the doorframe for support. His hair- which was short except for the fringe, and the colour of midnight with a faded blue tinge- had gone into wet spikes, and his fringe was plastered down over his eyes. He flicked it back, revealing green eyes, before giving Vince a sideways smile.

Vince found himself smiling back, 'Is it raining outside?' he asked mock-unknowingly.

Kaine swatted him, 'Sod off, you,' he threw his wet jacket out into the hallway.

Vince threw a tea towel at his head.

'Hey,' Kaine protested, 'what are you-'

'Dry your 'air with it!' Vince exclaimed, voice high, doing the job himself.

Kaine squeaked in protest, grabbing the towel and whipping Vince's arse with it.

Vince shrieked and run into the living room giggling.

It had been going on for two weeks, silly flirting when the rest of the band were out chatting up dollybirds, and Vince knew that if he wasn't in love with Howard, he would probably have kissed him by now, just like he would probably have kissed most of the fan-girls that chased them around.

But he loved Howard.

He spent most of his time thinking about him and missing him and wondering why the hell he hadn't even rung him just to say hello. Did he love Dixie that much that he no longer cared where the man who was supposed to be his best mate for years had gone?

He was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the front door opening again and the heavy booted feet of the rest of the band traipsing in, Roxx- lead guitarist-'s exclamation loud and brash in the hallway:

'Fuckin' 'ell this place is a shit 'ole!'

Vince rolled his eyes;_ that was an ingenious statement_...

'Yeah, how did it get like this!' Nowé threw his bag down in the hallway and slung his jacket all the way into living room where it missed the sofa and landed on the floor.

Irritated all of a sudden, Vince shoved past Kaine and stormed into the hallway, hands on his hips, 'Cos clearly no-one's heard of somethin' called a _bin_!' he snapped, thinking _God, I sound like Howard._

'Alright, Vince,' Nowé held up his gloved hands defensively, 'don't go all housewife on us...'

Vince came to the conclusion that the band didn't stay out long enough. He was sick of everything about it all; he just wanted to be left alone. He didn't want to party, flirt or get drunk, he just wanted to sit alone somewhere and gather his thoughts.

He had slim chances of that: they were going on tour tomorrow.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note;**** Short chapter Number Two, I'm sorry if they're rubbish! :D**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Mighty Boosh, you know that :D**

**Warnings: Evil Dixie**

If he did the wrong thing, she shouted at him.

If he did the right thing, she shouted at him.

If he disagreed with her, she hit him.

If he told her why he disagreed with her, she slapped him so hard it left a livid mark.

He couldn't even get away from her anymore, not to go to the _Nabootique, _not to go anywhere, unless of course she was with him. He couldn't call anyone because she always had his phone, and no one could visit them because she wouldn't open the door. It had been safer to just say yes to moving in with her; if he had said no, she would have done something to hurt him, she'd even talked about hurting Vince. That had been their biggest argument; he had yelled at her never to touch Vince, and she had slapped him and scratched his face, screaming and shouting until he'd just cowered in the corner, muttering that he was _sorry_.

What was he supposed to do?

He'd seen Vince, just once, on the television, singing on tour with the band, pulling shapes and showing off to the crowds, narrowly avoiding falling- or getting dragged into- the mosh pit. There had been an interview afterwards, and Vince had slouched in the chairs along with the rest of the band and answered questions. There had been something different about him though; the sparkle had completely gone from his eyes, and Howard could clearly see that every joke and smile he made was done with an effort that no one else noticed. He seemed even thinner and almost frail looking sitting in the rather square chair, and Howard wished he could be there to wrap his arm around his shoulders and tell him he missed him.

If Vince had still been in Dalston, the jazz maverick would have considered making an escape and going to see him, but he was miles away, and Howard hadn't been able to see where they were going next because Dixie had come in screaming and shouting at him and hit him for watching "that stupid idiot" on the television.

So now he was left sitting in the living room with her glaring at him for not tidying up a room that was already tidy and wondering what he was going to do about so many things:

What was he going to do about Vince?

What was he going to do about her?

What was he going to do about himself?

What was he going to do now?

He had to stop thinking then, because Dixie suddenly appeared in his lap, smothering him with kisses, talking sweetly and telling him they should get engaged.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note:**___**Hey! Thanks to everyone who's still reading and all my reviewers, I love the reviews, especially the ones that make me laugh (Mass Dixie hatred ;D ) This, I'm afraid-a-doodie, is another short chapter, and it's not very good cos of writer's block, but at least the short bits are getting out of the way.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Boosh and disown Dixie.**

**Warnings: Dixie**

_**Four Weeks Later...**_

He watched Vince deteriorate on the television. Every week a music channel was going on about the crazy antics of Vince Noir. Vince looked so... washed out, like a painting that had had a pitcher of water thrown at it. He was always hiding his eyes behind a huge pair of dark shades, and he made lurid comments and acted up just like the rest of the band.

Howard didn't want to watch it anymore, but it was the only way he could see Vince, the only way he could find out whether he was okay or not. It hurt, it hurt a lot, even more than the bruises his future wife seemed to enjoy inflicting upon him. He wanted to talk to Vince, wanted to hear his voice, he needed to tell him that he didn't stop thinking about him.

That he loved him.

In every way possible.

He just wished he hadn't realised it so late. But then, he hadn't realised it so late at all; he'd always known it, deep down. It had gotten to the point where he couldn't see himself with anyone other than Vince, whether it was intimately or just as friends, but then Dixie had come along, and she'd been so interested in him and looked so pretty with her lengthy midnight hair and her intense blue eyes.

He'd genuinely cared about her, but now that she had shown her true colours he wanted nothing more than to get away from her. He hadn't wanted to agree to getting engaged, it was the last thing he wanted, but he had been too scared to say no; her attacks were getting increasingly violent, and he was tortured both mentally and physically to the point where he was just too worn down to try and protest.

Strangely enough, he wanted to understand her, he wanted to know why she hurt him, why she couldn't care for him as much as he'd cared for her. He wanted to know if it was something he was doing, and that was also what he believed it to be. No matter how hard she hit him, or how much she hurt him with cruel words, he would never do the same to her, not out of cowardice, but civility.

At that moment, he was in the living room, watching Vince on a music channel, a pre-recorded interview with the rest of the band. He looked completely off his head and was lounging all over another band member who was practically holding him upright.

He couldn't do this; he couldn't watch Vince throwing his life away anymore. But what could he do about it? He hadn't even been able to tell Vince he was engaged in person; Naboo had done it for him.

The door burst open and slammed back on its hinges, and Dixie stormed in; face a rigid mask of anger. Howard closed his eyes, wondered what he'd done wrong now.

'You really are useless, aren't you?' she breathed, angrily, 'Did you not hear me ask you to order items in for the shop?'

'I did,' Howard replied quietly, looking down at the table, 'I have, love,'

'Then why did none of it arrive today?' she dug her nails into his shoulder, pulled him around to face her, 'And tell me that that is my imagination; you aren't _one_- watching TV up here when I told you I needed help and _two_- watching that stupid idiot? Do you not care about us, is that it? The day that imbecile drinks himself to death will be the best day of my life! It'll be drugs or drink, probably both.'

'Please. Don't talk about Vince like that,' Howard said, lamely.

Her response was to slap him around the face and then dig her nails into his hand as she wrenched the remote control from his grip.

'I swear if you don't do as I have asked I will loose it again and hit you with this,' she hissed under her breath, eyes flashing before turning all sweet again and stroking his hair, 'We don't want that, Howard,'

Howard did nothing but comply. He knew only too well what would happen if he didn't; her nails pressing into his flesh were enough warning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:**** Hey! :D Things are done a little differently in these next chapters to get certain little snippets out of the way :D Thanks to all my readers and reviewers, especially a certain someone who called me a 'Magical Writing Fairy' I'm quite proud of that title! ;D **

**Disclaimer:**** Listen Boy, I was out administerin' belt 'oles when the thought occurred in me cockney cranium that the fact I'm puttin' the word "disclaimer" 'ere states in itself that I don't own the Boosh. **

**Warnings: Language, Dixie.**

**A long Monday**

**9:30am (Manchester)**

It was another morning on tour, and the usual chaos was going on, an ensemble of voices and sounds clashing into a discord of pain in hung-over heads:

'_**Fuckin' hellbus! What 'appened in 'ere? Is anyone sober?**_**'**

'_**We're gonna have to use the mime-track today! Again!**_**'**

'_**Where's Noir?'**_

'_**Wot?'**_

'_**Noir!'**_

'_**Wot?'**_

'_**Guys, seriously, there's a bunch of reporters and what-not out there, sober up! Where's Nightsmoke?'**_

'_**Down 'ere off 'is tits!'**_

A round of laughter.

It wasn't funny, Vince thought, sprawled on the floor somewhere, head-ringing. It used to be funny, now it was just stupid. He realised that his head was resting in someone's lap and opened his eyes to see Kaine looking down at him, a concerned expression on his face.

'Hey,' Kaine said softly.

'Hey...' Vince replied faintly, a small smile flickering across his lips. It was just nice to know that someone still cared, even if it wasn't the person he wanted it to be.

'You were crying in your sleep,' Kaine told him, '... is it about that Howard?'

_Howard_.

Even his name made Vince's insides flip over. As memories and emotions floated back to join him through the haze of an intoxicated sleep he felt as if everything was crumbling around him, just as it had done when he had found out about their engagement. He had been putting so much rubbish into his body to blot out any reaction he'd have to the news, and his mind seemed constantly foggy, like the static in a television with no signal. Surely he couldn't go through another day of this? Surely he'd just fall apart on stage?

**9:40 am (Dalston)**

He'd been up since six, fixing things that she had broken in one of her outbursts, sweeping up glass from the china plate she'd thrown at him. He was sick of feeling that stab of fear she could create in him whenever she wanted, weary of being deafened by the sound of his own beating heart when he was terrified that she was going to take her rage dangerously too far.

He was sick and tired of clearing up after the hurricane, trying to find himself amongst the rubble.

**5:30 pm (Manchester)**

The tour was a literal hurricane of nightmares. The days seemed to blur past in a whirl of interviews and chaos.

Backstage, Vince briefly removed his shades to ask a petite woman with "crew" on the back of her t-shirt where the rest of the band were. She told him they were fighting in corridor seven.

Only a few days ago he would have joined in, fighting with other bands or hell-bent interviewers, a way to release some of his negativity, which always came back with a vengeance afterwards, but now he didn't even have the energy to walk to wherever the hell corridor seven was, let alone engage in the fight.

Forget about loving him, he just wanted to _see_ him. He just wanted to walk into a room and have him look up from a pristine jazz funk magazine or a Howlin' Jimmy record in its own little house and hear him say:

_Hey, Little Man._

Just those words would do, spoken in that soft, warm tone that was an octave or two lower than usual and laced with a clear Northern accent.

**5:30pm (Dalston)**

In the bathroom, Howard finished wiping the blood from his face, and gripped the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles turned white. Dixie had said it was his fault, and he believed her; it probably was. He said things that made her angry, he acted like the stupid idiot that he was and made her hurt him. She had been so nice to him in the beginning, and he had ruined it, hadn't he?

She had said he had changed, and she had started getting angry with him and doing things to hurt him because he didn't agree with the things she said.

But there was no way he was ever going to agree with her opinion on Vince. Not ever. She could do whatever to him, but he'd never, ever agree with her. He was furious that she wouldn't even let him see his best friend, but of course he turned it in on himself, blaming himself without even a justifiable reason.

He missed Vince. He missed everything about the little man, every single one of his little habits. He wanted to go back to the shop and spend time with Vince, hours, seconds, years, any amount of time where they were just alone and he wasn't being hurt physically or mentally by Dixie.

Of course he remembered that moment in the shop, when he had gone to actually kiss Vince, and he had locked it at the back of his mind. He hadn't meant to try and kiss him, but it had happened almost subconsciously, and Vince had submitted to it-

_No_, he told himself sharply, _you wanted it to be that way, but it wasn't. Vince would have pushed you away like out of fashion glad rags if Naboo hadn't have come in first. This is all your fault that it's like this, it's your fault she hurts you._

**2:30am (Manchester)**

Vince stepped back out of the way as they were mobbed in the corridor by crazy fans who had somehow managed to find their way backstage and elude security.

**2:45am (Manchester)**

Vince and the band struggled to get free of the fans and security came ambling around the corner.

'Sound security...' Nowé grumbled sarcastically.

Shaking, Vince hid the emotions his eyes couldn't behind his shades, and with a nod, readjusted his hat.

He missed the presence of Howard beside him, making him feel reassured, confident, even.

**3:55am (Dalston)**

It had been such a long day for Howard, and he was exhausted, but he just _couldn't _sleep. He longed for the room he shared with Vince, back at the _Nabootique. He longed for Vince full stop. _

_He just wanted to go to sleep. _She couldn't get to him there.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:****Might continue Tuesday in the next chapter, probably have to, but I wanted to reward you all with two chapters :D**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Mighty ****Boosh**

**Warnings: Language**

**A Rainy Tuesday**

**9:00am (Dalston, The **_**Nabootique**_**)**

Surrounded by various boxes of sundry items, Naboo sighed heavily and turned to look at his gorilla familiar.

'How'm I supposed to lift all this?'

'Bollo help,'

**9:00am (Dalston)**

The rain was hammering on the roof tiles, pouring down in an endless stream. Staring down into his coffee cup with tired eyes, the steam warming his face, Howard remembered that Vince had once said it was like a thousand pixies all throwing tantrums and stomping about on the roof.

He chuckled at the memory, and Dixie, who had been moving about throwing things around behind him because she could find her bag, muttered that she didn't find anything funny.

_You don't have to_, Howard found himself thinking, _it's none of your damn business actually._

He wished he could say it out loud.

**9:00am ****(Manchester)**

Vaguely hearing someone snapping at everyone to "get on the fuckin' bus!", his vision blurred as he stared through a coloured haze of smoke, Vince watched drowsily as his smothered thoughts personified themselves and staggered across the blackened room, a bright nymph with a torn wing, just like the one in his picture. It fell to its knees and stared up at him with pleading, crystalline eyes.

_I've told you,_

Vince told it in his mind, swatting a veil of smoke away from his vision,

_No one can help us. You've lost your wings and now you're broken, just like me._

_But it's alright for you, if people forget about you like a broken toy, and you can't take it anymore- you can just disappear. _

_But then I suppose I could too, if I really couldn't stand it..._

'**Vince! Wot's he starin' at! Vince! I wish you lot wouldn't smoke that shit when we're going on the fuckin' road! Oy Kaine, get 'im will ya?'**

'**But... maybe we should-'**

'**Kaine, you sh... Now!'**

**10:00am (Dalston) **

They were going to Leeds next, Howard discovered. For obvious reasons, Leeds was somewhere he knew how to get to. Sighing and watching the endless rain out of the window, he knew that he couldn't just do a runner to Leeds after Vince. It wouldn't work like that, there was more to it then just arriving in Leeds, wasn't there?

And anyway, Vince would think he was insane. He could almost hear the younger man's words, loud and amused and filled with a cockney accent:

_What the 'ell are __**you**__ doin' 'ere! You came moochin' all the way up to Leeds to look for me, you banana? You don't need me now, Howard, you've got a girl! _

_But I don't want her; _Howard thought solemnly, _I want you..._

**10:15am (tour bus)**

They were on the bus, on their way to Leeds and lost. Somehow the driver had managed to stray from the route.

Nowé flicked his shades up to glare, 'Idiot! There's somethin' wrong with him!'

Nods of agreement and angry voices volleyed across the bus.

Ignoring the row everyone was making and leaning his head against the headrest, watching droplets of rain chase one another down the windowpane, Vince had always thought it was impossible to think about nothing. Whenever he had tried, he had always ended up thinking about the fact that he was thinking about nothing, but now, he had discovered the trick to it.

First of all, you had to be only able to think about one thing. The subject had to be on your mind from the second you woke up till the moment you went to sleep.

Then, that thing had to hurt every time it crossed your mind, a harsh, gut wrenching pain that brought tears to your eyes.

And finally you had to endure that pain till the very last moment, to the point that you couldn't stand it anymore. And when you were too terrified to think, that was when you fought to think of nothing.

That was how Vince felt.

He felt as though he would die if he felt the pain of missing Howard anymore, so he did everything he could, fought desperately hard to slam the door to his own mind shut, even though an army of thoughts were pushing back against it.

**3:15pm (Dalston)**

Listening to Dixie yelling at him for ordering the stock to arrive at such a ridiculous time and several days late (this was not the case- he had said the day Dixie had instructed him to and requested it for 10:00am, but for some reason it had arrived at the very specific time of 3:15pm, on a Tuesday) Howard failed to see what he had seen in her in the first place. _But she hadn't been like this; she'd been so nice..._

Vince.

Lately Vince seemed to be the only one on his mind.


	15. Chapter 15

**Authors Note:**** We're getting there! :D A continuation of Tuesday... Thanks to everyone's reviews! They're all great! :D**

**Disclaimer:**** I am surrounded by variations of '**_**Where are you going, Vince Noir?**_**' but even so, I do not own the Mighty Boosh and am wishing I could get hold of a Howard-alike to sing it for me so I know which one to pick.**

**Warnings: Language**

**A stormy Tuesday Night**

**7:00pm (Leeds, Hotel)**

'Vince, it'll be alright, c'mon...' Kaine knelt down in front of Vince, this strange, intriguing man who cried in his sleep, enthralled the crowds and who had the beautiful ideas of a true surrealist.

'I can't...' Vince breathed in response, head buried in the crevice of his kneecaps that were pulled protectively against his chest.

Kaine sighed and looked around the hotel room. Outside, the sky was a stormy watercolour.

Vince had to go onstage; they'd fall to pieces without him.

**7:30pm (Dalston, the **_**Nabootique**_**) **

Naboo had fallen asleep at the counter, and his familiar shook him gently awake.

'Naboo?'

'Flippin' knackered...' the shaman mumbled.

'Bollo make you coffee?'

'Yeah. Tons o' the stuff...'

**7:40pm (Leeds, Hotel)**

'**Vince, for **_**fuck**_** sake! We're gonna be fuckin' late!'**

'**Shut the fuck up! D'you think your shouting's gonna make it any better?'**

'**Oh fuck off, Nowé!'**

Inside the room, Vince looked up at the door darkly, through his fringe, and Kaine was taken aback by the look in his eyes.

**8:00pm (Dalston)**

The storm which had been brewing in the sky like a beverage in a stormy teacup decided to commence at a time where it was pretty certain that it would be able to last a few hours and wake people up. Thunder growled like an angry yeti and lightening crackled across the sky.

In the flat, Howard was tired. Dixie was ranting on at him about how slow he'd been in the shop today and about the fact that sometimes he was so useless and...

_I really don't care._

Howard thought.

_You can harry on at me 'til your blue in the face, but I am too tired to even care._

**9:00pm (Leeds, backstage)**

He'd summoned the energy to get out of the room, prance about on stage and live up to the expectations of the fans-

_Vince is wild!_

_He's amazing!_

_He'll do something weird; he'll climb up on that balcony!_

But he was still feeling dark, like his soul was clouded, and now he tried to hide himself backstage under a dark pair of shades, a long black leather jacket and a large hat. Of course, that wasn't enough, and interviewers seemed to come out of the walls and maybe even from under the floorboards, and he could hear the noise of the fans, hear their shoes hammering along the corridors as they tried to find a way to get past security who were having none of it.

Usually, he loved this kind of attention, he loved the fact that he was worshipped and adored by pretty much everyone, but now the mere thought of having anyone run at him and cling to his clothing made him shudder.

_Don't touch me._

**1:00am (Dalston) **

The storm and heavy rain was keeping them both awake, so Dixie had gone to whinge in the kitchen, saying she couldn't even stand to sleep in the same bed as him, let alone do anything else.

_Thank all that is sacred for that,_

Howard thought firmly.

**2:00am (Leeds, Hotel)**

The rest of the band was still out flirting and drinking and creating general mayhem in the corridors of the hotel and the street.

The hailstones threatened to break the windows, even though they weren't strong enough.

_Wild little things, them hailstones, _Vince thought, _narcissistic. _

He juggled the penknife from hand to hand.

It wasn't just the fact that he loved Howard so much; it was about the fact that without him he felt small and abandoned. There had been a time when he had been able to feel confident with or without him or constant attention, but then doubts and thoughts that he hadn't felt for a long time had started to creep back into his mind, and he had started to need Howard there constantly to build him up and make him feel himself, both when they were on their own talking into the early hours of the morning and when they were onstage, in two ways:

The first way was that Howard's presence in itself made him feel better, the fact that he was tall and strong and his voice was low and soft- it made him feel constantly reassured.

And the second way was that Howard's shyness and general awkwardness when they were in public situations at gigs boosted his own confidence. He felt the need to be confident in himself and laidback in the hope that it would rub off on Howard who was sitting there as tense a board beside him.

At that moment, as he watched the rain and hail hit the window, he needed him more than ever. He lifted the blade to the moonlight and watched it shine; he pressed it flat against his wrist and felt the coolness of the metal.

He threw it across the room at the wide-eyed thought nymph that huddled in the corner.

_Don't look at me like that; I wasn't gonna do anythin'..._

He lay down flat on his back with a sigh and watched the moonbeams dance on the ceiling.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:**** Hello my lovelies, I come bearing chapters! I'm sorry it's been this long; it's been several busy weeks of sorting out the college I'm going to. Only an audition left to do and then several journeys to Westminster in the future!**

**Disclaimer:**** The Boosh? Not mine.**

**Warnings: None**

**Wednesday's Child.**

He missed being sunshine, a gifted child. He missed using his gift and chatting with animals. Yeah, he could still listen in on their conversations but it wasn't as fun if you couldn't join in and offer your human opinion.

And it wasn't as fun without Howard there to see it:

_Vince, stop talking to that mandrill. We're at the Zoo to work, not chat. _

_**The mandrill says you're Fossil's little dancer.**_

_I have told you before; I do not dance for Fossil._

_**That's not what the mandrill says.**_

_Vince! C'mon now! D'you think the mandrill might agree that a certain someone might wanna get on with their seed distribution?_

_**Nah. The mandrill's not likin' that.**_

_Vince, stop monkeying around. Ha! D'you like that, see what I did there?_

_**The mandrill isn't findin' that very funny.**_

_The mandrill can kiss my Northern ass, sir!_

_**The mandrill would like to take you up on that offer *giggles***_

_Vince! _

_**The mandrill's puckerin' up for a little kissey...**_

_If you don't stop, I'm gonna getcha sir, put you in that wheelbarra' an' wheel you t'-_

_**The mandrill thinks I might like a ride in that wheelbarra'...**_

_Vince, the mandrill is not even conversing with you anymore, it's over there, scratching itself._

_***Copious laughter***_

In the hotel, Vince was surprised to hear himself chuckle at a memory of so long ago. They'd had such good times, he and Howard. He realised now that even if he couldn't be with him in _that_ way he still wanted to be with him, he wanted to be with him forever; it didn't work any other way.

He needed to tell him that; needed him to know that he was serious, so he grabbed his mobile and rang him, cursing under his breath when all he got was voicemail and, struggling to hear the voicemail instruction over the sound of his fast beating heart, he blurted out what he had wanted to say:

_What I'm trying to say is that I'm like a shiny piece of material, right, with sequins and glitter and stuff, and of course, I'm what everyone looks at and wants, but you Howard, you're the stitching, you're just as important, cos without you the fabric falls apart, yeah?_


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:**** Now, listen, okay? We all know that we don't like Dixie, right? And why; Because she's an evil lady (I use the term 'lady' loosely) and in this chapter she's living up to her name, so I warn you now, cos I don't want an army of enraged Boosh fans coming from here and America and all over with flaming torches and pitchforks at the ready, okay? :P**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Boosh, only the Thought Nymph which seems to do a cameo in this chapter.**

**Warnings: Dixie**

_**Thursday**_

_What I'm trying to say is that I'm like a shiny piece of material, right, with sequins and glitter and stuff, and of course, I'm what everyone looks at and wants, but you Howard, you're the stitching, you're just as important, cos without you the fabric falls apart, yeah?_

Howard had replayed the message three times now. Dixie was less than amused and was muttering something in the background about having to slave away by herself when in fact all she was doing was washing up simple cutlery which only she had used.

_Come back from Leeds,_

He wanted to tell him,

_Come back from Leeds and I'll put everything together again. I'll try. I don't know how, but I'll have a go, sir, but I can't do that if you're not here._

If he so much as attempted to leave the room Dixie would launch into a tirade of fury, going on about how he was texting people behind her back and ruining their engagement... and that was the point when he usually switched off.

'Put down the phone, please. I've asked you nicely,'

'What?'

'The phone. Put it down.'

'Why?'

'Because,' a sharp, warning breath, 'I have asked you to.'

'I'm entitled to hold my own mobile phone, Dixie...' he heard the tremor in his own voice and that was what gave her fuel.

'Put the phone down. _Now_.'

'No.' He didn't know why he was standing up to her, it only made things worse.

'I won't ask you again, Howard.'

He felt the tension and the fear rise in the room, the colour of blood, a red flag, waving- stop, but he didn't, even though his own heart was cowering and trembling like an abandoned animal inside his chest:

'No.'

She smashed the glass she was holding against the counter and it smashed into pieces, falling like the tears of a broken glass doll, and she was across the room and reaching up to grab his hair so hard that he yelped. She dragged him across the room to the kitchen and he had no choice but to follow, because her fingers were still laced cruelly in his hair, pulling unbearably hard.

She pushed him so his back smashed into the counter, his free hand grabbed the place where the shards of glass were and they pierced his flesh sharply, only for her hand to reach over his and press it down harder.

'_Please! Dixie please! Please, please! Ah, let go, let go, please!_' He felt the tears spring to his eyes and the pain in his hand turned his face pale.

'Give me the phone.' Her voice was at normal tone, but full of threatening contempt.

She grabbed his hand that contained the phone, feeling the wet of his blood under her other hand.

'_Give _me it.'

He had no choice but to let go.

She let up her other hand.

He fell to the floor, clutching his hand to his chest, trembling at the site of the blood, and she raised the phone in her grip above her head:

'Shall I smash it, huh?'

'No, please don't!'

'Huh?

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please!' he muttered it as a mantra, tears burning his eyes and threatening to run down his face but he refused to let them, refused to appear any more weak.

'Aww...' She cooed, crouching down in front of him, 'Don't you want me to smash it?' she grabbed his jaw roughly, ran a hand through his hair, hard.

'No... please...'

'I guess in that case I'll just take it with me,' she stood up and swept from the room, leaving him huddled on the kitchen floor.

_Vince._

_Just think of Vince._

_That's your happy place, isn't it? When you're with Vince?_

Suddenly, and what he felt pathetically, he was sobbing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Thursday's Night**

And in the night, Vince couldn't sleep. Something wasn't right. He didn't know what though, and it frustrated him. The Thought Nymph kept waking him, its icy fingers whispering through his hair, its voice the slightest tinkle of a bell but loud and clear in his head, and when he allowed it permission it wandered through his mind, rapping skeletal knuckles on doors, tapping at windows like the scratch of a tree branch on a window pane, trying locks.

It sat in his mind, in the velvety dark, swinging its legs like a child on a swing, and whispered one word:

_Howard._

Vince wondered why he hadn't contacted him after the message he had left. Had he freaked him out? Or did Howard maybe just not care now that he had Dixie? Was he too infatuated with her to even look at his phone?

The Thought Nymph shook its head, disentangled itself from the velvet and left, came to rest on the large window ledge, bathing itself in the moonlight.

_I'm here, but where are you?_

Howard had said that once. Vince wondered why he was thinking about it now.

It had been on one of his nights out, and he had only been slightly tipsy, doing his best to comply with Howard's wishes for once and not spend so long out in the dark or get so drunk. He had stumbled in, tripping over thin air and his high heels, and had told Howard that he was never there, because he had wanted a lift home.

_I'm here,_ Howard had said, _but where are you, Vince?_

What had he meant? Why was he thinking about that now? Why did it almost seem like something was trying to tell him something?

He swatted the Thought Nymph away angrily, yanked his duvet over his head and fell into a troubled sleep.

_**XXX**_

_I'm here, but where are you?_

_Thin air and high heels,_

_I'm here, but where are you?_

_Silver buckles and fairytales,_

_I'm here, but where are you?_

_Sunshine and gold,_

_I'm here, but where are you?_

_Vanished in the sparkling blue. _

_-Electro_Girl_Noir_


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** **Hey there! I'm sorry this is a short chapter and not very good but I have had such a time of it... ugh. Anyway, the next one promises to be long and interesting :D **_**Where are you going, Vince Noir? **_**Will be at the end of this epic fic :P**

**Disclaimer:**** The Boosh is not mine.**

**Warnings: Language, squire. **

**Friday**

Friday was full of nothing but interviews- magazine interviews, recorded interviews, god-awful live interviews- and of course, performances. They were ferried from one place to another in a whirlwind of confused and overworked backstage crew and Vince would make his way along corridors or down stairs or through studios with the same purposeful stride as always, except this time it was just because he wanted to get things over and done with. Onstage he gave the audience what they had paid to see, knowing the he wouldn't have expected to see anything less if he had been the one going to the concert.

And now they were making their way down a corridor to the green room, a young and lively member of the crew practically bounding along to keep up with Vince's long strides and babbling on about how and when they were to go on.

Vince, mind elsewhere, just answered him with 'mmm' every now and then, from under the cover of his fringe and shades.

Probably, at some other time, with Howard all awkward beside him, Vince would have been in his element. He would have bounced down the corridors and flirted and nattered to the crew and not have had to fake his smile or hide behind his shades, because Howard would have been right there beside him.

Completing him, keeping him together like an aloof glue stick.

There was a new sign up in the window of the Nabootique, written in curling purple writing as big as possible, as if the person who had wrote it had really been rather pissed-off at the time.

**Vince Noir ****IS NOT**** in**

In the flat, Naboo pried the hookah from his familiar's hairy grip and sighed. Sometimes, it really was hard not to meddle in mortal affairs when you were in fact, _in_ mortal affairs. The shaman had been stuck in the flat and/or the shop doing nothing but sending Vince's fans away, serving customers and taking phone calls from Howard, who sounded literally terrified at the other end of the line, as if he was talking to him whilst suspended inches above a shark pit.

_Alright?_

_I know what you're thinking, don't underestimate me, I'm a shaman, remember._

_If you want my opinion, you shouldn't think either o' those things, it's disgusting._

_Thing is with mortal business you can't jus' go blunderin' in with a shit load o' magic. _

_I did that once an' it ended in colourful tears an' one case o' lunacy._

_Basically 'e went mental and raped a small shopping outlet._

_Anyway, what I'm sayin' is I can't jus' go an' use that Jazz Bitch as a conduit, cos there's no guaranteein' she won't remember afterwards, an' knowin' Howard's luck, she probably will._

_Definitely._

_..._

'_Ang on, yeah?_

Naboo thumped his familiar hard enough to jolt the gorilla out of his reverie and stop him singing Peacock Dreams.

'Uh?'

'Bollo, d'you mind? I'm doin' an inner monologue...'

'Oh.'

_Ballbag._

_Right, so I could send Bollo round there, but it'd probably end in bloodshed._

_Not much of an option, that one. _

_I'm still sort of hopin' they'll sort it out themselves; I mean whatever they do, they always end up back at the flat like a pair o' boomerangs, so way I see it is they're bound to wind up back here eventually, sorta like when you've think you've locked up all your spare change and then some two p's turn up._


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:**** ;p**

**Disclaimer:**** The Microsoft office paperclip is looking at me as if to say, 'Love, it's ten past four in the morning…' even so; I do not own the Boosh. Or the paperclip.**

**Warnings: Language**

There was something gloriously wrong with her. She hadn't snapped at him all day, just sat around meekly asking him to fetch things for her, and when he said he would do it in just a second, she didn't say a word, or even better, _do_ anything.

And now, when she tried, when he had spilled a glass of water that had surged out all the way behind the mugs and various other things at the back of the kitchen counters and she stood up abruptly to smack him around the face, she just swayed precariously and then ran off to throw up.

Half way between concern and smugness, Howard found himself rapping his knuckles on the door to the bathroom, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she swatted him away as she left the bathroom on shaky legs and he reached out a hand to support her, "I must be coming down with something,"

"Why don't you go and rest in bed?" Howard offered, flinching instinctively when she reached out to grip his arm for support.

So with her in bed, and after he'd finished ferrying things to her, he had the place to himself.

**XXX**

Vince looked around the hotel room half dazed, tired from his rant about wanting to leave the band and how they had gone to shit. Not on stage, they were great on stage, it was _backstage_ that was the problem. Lately it had been nothing but endless bickering and fights and intoxications that led to them paying for an extremely long list of crimes to the hotel.

So there Vince had been, standing in the aftermath of a fight between Roxx and Nowé, the hotel room looking like a bombsite, shouting about how much he hated all of this, when Kaine had joined in, albeit very quietly, muttering that he wanted to leave with Vince, and now Nowé was yelling angrily in French at someone on the other end of the phone, the rest of the band stalking around the room.

"I didn't know 'e could speak French," Vince said as Kaine shuffled over.

Kaine laughed.

Vince liked the way his eyes shone when he laughed. He wondered if that had been why Howard used to gaze at _him_ when he was laughing at a pretty funny episode of Colubus the Crab back at home, "What's funny?"

"Oh," Kaine blushed and his hand went up to sweep his fringe away from his face, "Sorry, you just make me laugh…"

"Oh!" Vince said mock angrily, "Oh well ain't that nice!" he jabbed him in the ribs, to which Kaine lurched away and giggled breathlessly.

Nowé, having finished his phone call, spun on his heel and glowered at them both, "Have you two finished? This isn't a joke, y'know. Vince, I like you mate, but sometimes you really piss me off, and Kaine, I don't know what your problem is, but he ain't Jacob, if that's what you think,"

The rest of the band shuffled about awkwardly for a minute, whilst Vince looked from one to the other confused.

"Right, d'you think we could get to the end of the fucking tour before anyone decides to leave! You can all jump on the bandwagon at the end, if that's what you want!" Nowé slammed out of the room, the rest of the group reluctantly gathering their belongings and beginning to follow.

"Hey-" Vince grabbed Kaine by the back of his jacket, stopping him in the doorway, "What'd he mean a minute ago?"

Kaine avoided his eyes and looked at the floor, "Don't worry, it's nothing…"

**XXX**

"Is that coffee you're making?"

"Yes…" Howard sighed back, trying to keep the irritated whine from his voice. So much for having the place to himself; she'd done nothing but nag from the comfort of the bedroom.

"Can you shut the door on then?"

"What?" he frowned.

"Shut the door! That smell is making me feel physically sick!"

Howard sighed and tried to shut the door without slamming it. How could she even smell coffee from all the way in there? She seemed to be able to know what he was doing and harass him about it even when she wasn't physically in his presence, like some sort of all-seeing witch woman. He looked down at his injured hand, wrapped tightly in a bandage after what she had done to it pressing it into the glass, and wonder why the hell he didn't just walk out right now. Why didn't he just leave, right now, this second? _Because you're bloody scared of her, that's why,_ his mind taunted. He had visions of her suddenly feeling better and spotting him trying to leave, visions of her hurting him.

And, for some neurotic reason, he felt he couldn't just leave her unwell like that. If only she didn't have his damn phone, he could have phoned Vince. He was starting to wonder only half mockingly if Dixie purposefully didn't have a landline so past lovers couldn't call for help.

As quietly as he could, he took his coffee into the living room and switched on the T.V, settling down on the sofa. He imagined that if she wasn't feeling any better by half-past she'd probably make him amble down the street to write some sort of 'sorry we're closed' message and leave it in the window, but he still had a bit of time yet, so he flicked through the channels, sipping his coffee.

There was a live show on, where clearly some form of kerfuffle had just gone on, because there was a huge group of burly security surrounding something on the stage, the interviewer was standing quite alarmed between a mish-mash of plush cream armchairs and the audience was a-buzz with excited chatter. The cameras panned about desperately, trying to focus somewhere decent for daytime television, and that's when the microphones picked up on what was going on amidst the security guards in the middle of the stage:

*hysterical crying from a girl*

"Look, madam, this is the last time-"

*loud sobbing from the girl*

"**This**, _madam_- madam- m- _**madam**_**! **This is the last time I'm going to ask you to let go of him, do I make myself clear? If you- If you don't listen, we're going to have to physically remove you; you don't want that, do you?"

*choking, desperate, shuddering sobs from the very manic sounding girl*

"_Look, I can't breathe! If you get off me, I'll give you my cowboy hat an' a little kissey…"_

**Vince.**

"Vince?" Howard knelt in front of the television, as close as he could get so he could hear properly; that last voice had definitely been Vince's:

At some point or other Dixie must have ran to the bathroom, because he was suddenly aware of the sound of her vomiting again, and then her voice managing to keep an impressive level of spite, "_What are you doing watching things in there?_"

"I really think you should focus on the job at hand," Howard found himself saying, not looking away from the T.V screen.

**XXX**

Vince had decided to prevent Nowé from having a nervous breakdown and buck up and switch on the sunshine. If he could keep it up for the rest of the tour he could leave at the end and see Howard again, and that's what made him make an effort. Also, suppose Howard was watching? Imagine if he was watching and he saw what Vince had been like, depressed and hung-over and just generally quite dark?

He was on a daytime chat show to talk about the artwork he did for the band, the images on pretty much everything, everywhere they went, but it had all suddenly kicked off when a crazy fangirl had jumped onto the stage and flung herself at him, her arms squeezing tightly around his waist, sobbing into the soft black velvet of his cape. The only way to remove her seemed to be with the promise of a kiss and a garment of his clothing, so that was the deal.

"Look," he managed to disengage her arms and took hold of her hands. She was staring at him like he'd just fell from the sky, "I have genuinely got my cowboy hat over 'ere…"

**XXX**

Howard couldn't help smiling as he watched Vince- he was acting so… mature? Generous? He wasn't sure, but his heart felt like it was glowing even as he watched Vince place his cowboy hat atop the girl's head and peck her on the lips to which she all but collapsed.

The interviewer wisely suggested an ad break, and Howard remembered Dixie, "Do you want a drink?" he called to the bathroom door.

"Oh no, I'll be fine, just leave me here to watch your little… _sod…_ of a friend!" dripping with sarcasm.

_Leave you in there, you say? _

"I'll take that as a 'yes'?"

"_Of course it's a bloody yes, imbecile!_"

**XXX**

With the girl swooning in the arms of her friend, they were soon back on-air and the interviewer could proceed:

"So," she said, somewhat breathless, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ears and crossing her legs, "today's interview has been quite chaotic so far!"

"Mmm. Sort of turned a bit mental. Went into a mash-up. Bit more of a urban suffocating than an interview,"

There was laughter.

Noticing the fangirl looking embarrassed, and possibly on the verge of joining Nowé in a breakdown, Vince added, "Although you're well pretty. Quite sexy. I like the glitter. Glitter-bug; tha's your new nickname!"

The interviewer quickly moved on, "So Vince, you're first design here, is… a brass band under… hair?"

"Yeah, it's something my best mate used to say to me," Vince smiled to himself, "he used to say my face was visually noisy, like a brass band under a wig…"

**XXX**

Howard hadn't grinned so warmly in a long time.

_Oh Vince. My Little Man._


	21. Chapter 21

**Dedicated to:**** Albinoeyes- You're brilliant to talk to, endured my stupid internet, always make me laugh, and even ventured out into the blinding whiteness of the Tundra just to get me a snow pic :D**

**Author's Note:**** Hello! I won't bore you with why this is a little late ;P Big thanks to everyone who's reviewed, is reading, or who has favourited me xxxx**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Boosh, my friends.**

**Warnings: There's probably language**

One minute she was fine, and then she wasn't.

The next minute she was crying.

Then she was shouting.

Then she felt sick/was sick, then she was throwing plates at his head.

There were marks and bruises all over his body, four scratches down the side of his neck, and his nerves were absolutely shot through. He noticed that his hands were shaking ridiculously as he poured her a glass of water. He carried it over to the bedroom where she sat in floods of tears and hoped to high heaven that he didn't spill any on her; he didn't think he could take another injury.

She snatched the glass from him and spilled some of it over herself, and so he had to stand there and listen whilst she screamed and shouted at him, reminding him of how useless and stupid and he was, once again, and when she sprang up and slapped him across the face before dragging her nails down his bare forearms and over the already raw skin of his wrists, he let her, because it was just so much easier to let her. He probably deserved it, didn't he?

He waited until she was asleep. She slept a lot lately. Then, he rifled through the drawers in the bedroom, turned the flat upside down until he found his phone, threw the essentials into his suitcase and walked straight out of the door.

He only realised what he was doing several minutes later when he snapped a little out of the reverie she had put him into and looked around the streets, realising he had no idea where he was going.

"Oi," A youthful voice suddenly lamented behind him.

_Oh God, what now? _"Look," he said, turning around reluctantly, flinching away instinctively, "It's getting dark, I- I have somewhere to be…"

"Don't look like you've got somewhere to be though," It was a teenage girl, a teenage girl that in Howard's opinion looked far too young to be out on the street in the approaching dark, "Are you alright?" she suddenly asked raising an eyebrow and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her stylish red and black jacket.

Howard mentally insulted himself when he felt tears spring to his eyes; he couldn't help it, she had big emotive blue eyes like Vince's, that bored right through your soul and made you want to pour your heart out.

"I- I'm fine," he said, not unkindly, "But… shouldn't you be with your parents?"

She laughed then, a big wide grin brightening her face, "You berk-off, how old d'you think I am?"

"Oh," Howard blushed and flinched again, "I- I'm sorry, I thought…."

"S'alright," She muttered, "I get that a lot. I'm actually twenty-seven,"

"Oh!" Howard grinned nervously at her, "s- sorry…"

"Yeah, age never really caught up with me," She told him, "But I'm sure it will one day, and I'll go all saggy like one of them dogs with all the folds,"

She sighed, but Howard burst into laughter that surprised even him.

"I'm sorry!" he was flinching again, just in case, "It's just you really remind me of my best-friend…"

She grinned reassuringly "Who that then?"

"Oh, Vince. Vince Noir,"

"Whoa, seriously, you're best mates with Vince Noir?" Her eyes widened even further.

Howard smiled, "Yeah… haven't seen him in a while though,"

"That is well cool. Look…" she had been carrying a fashion and music magazine under her arm and she handed it to him, "He's my idol. Don't fancy him or anything, but… I just feel sort of connected to him. Had my hair like his once, till it got too long,"

Howard speed-read the article about Vince and his band without a word.

"And if you want something even more up-to-date…" the young woman took out a flashy phone and began jabbing at seemingly random buttons to Howard.

"Don't have parents anyway," she muttered as she continued to fiddle around with the phone, "grew up in some pretty weird places, me…"

A few moments later she triumphantly thrust the phone towards Howard, "Ah-ha!"

Howard found himself peering at an internet page.

"Take it, take it," she waved the mobile at him, "have a look; he updates this all the time, says all weird things and about what the band are up to as well. Press that button there to scroll the page down…"

Howard read through the updates:

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Tuesday at 10:00pm)**: There's 10 other Vince Noir's on here. Bit out of order that xx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Wednesdayat 2:00am) **Kestrel the great spread his wings to fly, but there was only a calm breeze so he had to walk.**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Wednesdayat 2:30am) **We have drunk the mini-bar. **

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Wednesdayat 7:00pm) **So knackered. Legs are gonna drop off or snap like a Wheeto. **

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Wednesdayat 7:31pm) to: **I_Love_Vince_Noir **

**Have u tried Root Boost 60? Don't get the cheep 1 tho get the 1 that's €30. WELL worth it xx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Wednesdayat 9:00pm) **Came out of gig to find chavs waiting to mash me up so I introduced them to my band mate Roxx and our security bloke who's even taller than my best mate. Was funny xx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Wednesdayat 9:05pm) to: **Katie_The_Strange **

**Haha! Will leave in an envelope next time and post myself to the hotel. Will be easier, tbh xx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Wednesdayat 9:06pm) to: **Katie_The_Strange **

**Genius. Lovin' your eyes in new pic. Will try and say hi but I will be backstage mostly xx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Wednesdayat 11:59pm) **The nymph stares at me in my sleep. I wake up to find its icy fingers in my hair like Jack Frost's gloves.**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir** (Thursdayat 1:00am) **Great set, but tired an injured and my clothes are ripped which is not on. You are all lovely but if you want a hug just ask, don't grab please! Xx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Thursdayat 10:00pm) **Genius! Madness all day. Fell off stage but was caught by crowd and it transformed into a stage dive. To the people that caught me, cheers! Will be attempting more in the future xx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Friday at 9:00am) **Really don't feel like it today. **

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Fridayat 10:00am) **People coming to the late signing on Saturday, if you want me to draw you stuff, be at the back I will do it last cos security blokes will moan at me xx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Fridayat 1:00pm) **To the millions of interviewers that find it so important, yes I swing both ways.**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Fridayat 2:30pm) **Am really needing a break today. Missing the person I love, as always. Miss the Zooniverse times xxxx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Fridayat 3:00pm) to: **LeroyZero **

**Didn't expect you to have seen him anyway. Will see you when I finally get back in Dalston and give you them CDs mate! X**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Friday at 12:00am) **Drunk. Miss you miss you miss you miss you miss you miss you so much xxxx Have been to Leeds now and seen all the wheelbarras**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Fridayat 12:01am) **Ignore my drunken ramblings xx**

**VincexxObsidianxxNoir **(Todayat 9:00am) **Late signing in Waterstones from 7:00pm xx Will be doing a little talky thing in the **_********__Oeuvre_ **afterwards, if you're coming to that. €5 xx**

Howard suddenly knew what to do.

"I didn't catch your name," he said, before he handed back the phone and prepared to charge off down the street as a Man of Action would.

"It's Laure," she laughed.

"Laure, I mean it, thanks so much!"

She just grinned that Vince Noir grin again.

**Xxx**

The signing was taking place in the huge local Waterstones, seeing as the hotel had adamantly refused to set up a venue inside feeling they'd had to deal with enough shenanigans already. Apparently they were going to be there until twelve at night because of some crazy thing someone wanted them to do that Vince knew hardly anything about. Vince was alarmed and slightly horrified, albeit in a good way, by how popular they were; there were screaming fans trying to attach themselves to him, which wasn't unusual, but it was the way it was happening; they would come up to the table for their autograph all shaky and red-faced, trying to act cool to impress him, pretending it was their sister/boyfriend/brother/friends who had dragged them there, when afterwards they quite clearly ran away smitten and giving little squeals of delight.

The place was filled with the sound of hundreds of voices all mingled into one large excited babble punctuated by the occasional squeak of delight and the click and flash of a camera combined with the almost constant gruff sound of security telling people to 'stand back' and 'go over there' and 'get behind the line!' or 'let go of him! Move along! No you can't!'

"How many more people are there?" Vince asked security as he finished drawing a speed-sketch of Charlie Bubblegum onto someone's bag, trying to sound causal.

"Can't see the end of the line," Kaine whispered to him.

"About another hundred," was security's response.

"Really?" Vince tried not to sound disheartened. It was just so hard to keep up the sunshine when sometimes just having someone smile at you made you want to cry. He really did need to see Howard now.

"Hello, make it out to who? Sure," Nowé, mid signing, turned to Vince, "There'll be even more at the venue afterwards,"

Vince suddenly found himself wondering what would happen if he ran. Right now, if he just got up and ran and disappeared. He looked down at the table and the array of pens that kept appearing from nowhere.

A slightly shaky hand suddenly hovered into view.

"Hi, who am I making it out to?" the words tumbled from his lips automatically, as he looked at the battered pens, trying to work out which ones still had ink.

"Howard Moon, if you don't mind sir. I'm a big fan of yours,"


	22. Chapter 22

**Dedicated to:**** DiamondCurve- You intrigue me, and your lovely review made me feel so much better ^_^ thank you! ;D And I'm sorry things didn't quite go how I planned XD**

**Okay, Here's what happened:**** My stupid computer did something weird and turned the whole document into some kind of code that I'm now trying to revert back into something legible. I'm really sorry for the shortness of this but it's all I've managed to get so I've changed it slightly to give it a sort of ending. :/**

**Disclaimer:**** If I owned the Boosh I'm pretty sure such an issue wouldn't have occurred, my friend.**

Vince just stared, unable to take his eyes away from Howard's. The noise that had been so monotonous just seconds ago suddenly seemed non-existent.

"Hi, Howard," It was Kaine who took action, because security was starting to grumble. He shook hands with the Northerner and smiled, "D'you want to come and stand back here?"

"Thanks very much," Howard smiled and came to stand behind the table with the rest of the band, sitting down next to Vince when Nowé got him a chair.

Vince turned instantly to look at the maverick, "Howard I-"

The noise had come back tenfold, because now people were overexcited by the fact that a large northern man had now joined the band, and coming forward for autographs again and…

Vince felt dizzy.

He stood up shakily, leaving the table and swaying into the arms of several fans who luckily just handed him over to Howard who was close beside him.

Howard found himself leading Vince out of the shop and into the cooling air outside, night fast approaching. He pulled Vince against him as the smaller man dissolved into quiet sobs and wrapped both arms tightly around the thin body.

"Hey there…"

"Howard- H- Howard I-"

"Shh, just take a minute…" Howard rested his chin gently atop Vince's head and wished they could have gone somewhere more private. He felt slightly selfish, just turning up out of the blue like that right in front of everyone in the middle of a signing, but he'd known that if he didn't do it then, he might not have gotten another chance. It hadn't been easy either; Naboo had been involved-

Vince laughed suddenly and leaned back, "I can't believe it's you, Small Eyes!" he grinned, shaking his head in disbelief, letting go to wipe the smudged make-up from his cheeks.

"Sorry to just rock up like that, but…" Howard trailed off.

Vince continued to stare at him, taking in the unfamiliar sight of Howard in a white shirt, denim jeans and a brown jacket but the same scuffed up pair of sturdy shoes, his hair almost at his shoulders-

"Bloody 'ell, what's 'appened to y' hair!"

Howard just smiled, "I used to have a midnight-barber but…"

Vince smiled and then frowned. He reached up to lightly trace the vicious looking scratches on the side of his neck, "What…" then he saw a faint bruise above the older man's left eye, and more faded scratches on his cheek, "Howard-" the sinking feeling in his gut confirmed that something wasn't quite right.

"Don't worry, it's fine, it's all fine," Howard held up his hands and Vince took hold of the bandaged one, shocked, then grabbed the other and saw the state of the wrist and the lack of engagement ring.

"Howard, what-!"

"It's nothing," Howard steered him back inside before a small audience gathered, desperately scrabbling to change the subject.

"No, Howard…" Vince's thoughts were bringing forth a possibility that he was struggling to even consider, because surely…?

Surely not…


	23. Chapter 23

**This story is also branching out quite a bit on Twitter, you can follow the links on my profile and follow Vince and Howard ;D**

**Dedication:**** Albinoeyes: Just really glad we met, and our msn chats are genius :'D**

**DiamondCurve: Your messages and reviews have the wonderful power of cheering me up at just the right moment, O Valiant Knight! xD**

**iamwinterrowan: Because she's fab! Love ya Puck ;D**

**Disclaimer:****I do not own The Mighty Boooooooosh. Or The Mighty Boosh.**

**Warnings: Erm…. None? I think, just be on guard for language ;D**

Vince had never felt so tired in his life, all of a sudden. He could hear people talking anxiously and feel Howard's arm holding him up, but he couldn't open his eyes and everything just seemed miles away.

Howard sighed, holding Vince close to him; pretty sure he was also keeping him upright. He looked awkwardly at the crowd of people and the band standing watching them and felt incredibly foolish as he heard himself say in the smallest voice imaginable:

"Sorry… I… I don't really know what to do…?"

Nowé ran a hand through the sleek blackness of his hair and briefly turned to watch security henpeck everyone back up to the signing room before turning back to Howard, "Take him back to the- do you know this area?"

Howard shook his head.

"Er…" Nowé scratched the side of his nose, "Vince?" he called, moving forwards and putting a hand on Vince's shoulder, "You there mate?"

…

**XxX**

As he slowly battled the fog of sleep, he could hear someone singing, the words occasionally turning into humming, and a larger hand was holding his own, rubbing his palm in soothing circles.

Howard?

It felt like Howard, and from what he could hear it sounded like Howard, but part of him still couldn't believe it actually _was_ Howard.

He tried to open his eyes but all he managed was to flicker his eyelids.

"Hey there," Howard said softly, giving the smaller man's hand a gentle squeeze, "Just relax, okay?"

Vince managed to open his eyes and found himself looking at the familiar ceiling of his hotel room, squinting in the light, "…unn…"

"Do you want me to turn off the light for a minute?"

"Un…"

"Yes?"

"Yer…"

Howard smiled to himself and got up to switch off the light, bathing the room in new light- the light of the moon:

_Do do do do do do…_

_La de dee dee dee…_

_La…_

_Do do…_

_Do…_

_Do.._

_Do._

_Ey, what are you starin' at me for…?_

'_Ave I got somethin' on ma face?_

_Stop starin', I- I can't help it if I got craters!_

_I'm da Moon._

Vince sat up slowly and took the glass of water Howard handed him, the northerner waiting patiently until he had finished drinking.

"Hi…" Howard said when he was done, smiling warmly but a rather powerful uncertainty sparkling in his eyes in the moonlight.

Vince turned slightly so that his leg was touching Howard's and ran a hand through his hair, "Bloody hell Howard… I… I don't know what to say… I… I don't know where to start… I don't know why you're all covered in bruises, I- I- I-" tears started to well in his eyes and his breathing quickened, making his throat and chest tighten painfully.

"Hey," Howard hastily moved to take hold of Vince's hands, squeezing them, "Just calm down, that's why you passed out before, just relax Little Man, look at me…"

Vince looked at him, eyes wide with tears and filled with distress.

"Am I coming on tour?" Howard's eyes never left Vince's.

Vince licked his lips subconsciously, suddenly flustered, "Er yeah, yeah…" he nodded vigorously, hair falling into his face. He had sort of thought that they'd go home now, and everything would be okay, but of course it wouldn't work like that.

"Right, so now we're on tour, we focus on the tour, okay? Isn't touring with a band what you always wanted?"

"I…" he stared down at his odd socks.

"While we're here, we have fun, you do what you do in the band, and when the tour's over that's when we talk about… well about things that have gone on, okay?"

"But Howard…" Vince shook his head, emotions whirling around far too much for him to portray anything but a childlike confusion, "You just turn up out of the blue all beaten up and expect me to carry on like I can't see it…?"

"No… I…" Howard sighed, clutching Vince's hands almost desperately, "Just... Oh Vince…" he pulled Vince to him then, and Vince clambered forwards until he was kneeling on the bed in Howard's arms, leaning his weight into him.

"I missed you so, so much…" Howard breathed into his neck, pressing his lips against the warm skin.

Vince shuddered, "So did I… I…"

"We'll talk," Howard murmured, "I promise, I'll tell you everything, but not now, okay, not now,"

It was strange, hearing Howard after so long, him being right here, in front of Vince after he'd longed for him to be, and he tried hard not to cry anymore, breathing in his familiar smell and relishing in the warmth.

"Howard…"

"Will you do that then, Little Man, will you pretend nothing's happened here, it's just us and the band and the tour?"

"Yeah…"

Xxx

They wasn't sure how long they stayed there like that for before Vince yawned and moved back, "Howard, 'ave you got a room?"

"Erm…"

"Howard!" Vince laughed, a grin lighting up his face, "We don't even stay in hotels sometimes, I don't know how you'll get on in the tour bus!"

Howard laughed too, almost gazing at him.

"You'll have to stay here," Vince said, bouncing off the bed and dragging Howard's suitcase away from the door and further into the room, "Did you bring the essentials or just jazz?"

"Oi. I brought the essentials thank you very much," Howard pointed a mock warning finger at him.

Vince then pointed at the two bags full of what looked like paper propped in the corner of the room, "What's that?"

"That, Odd Socks, is the two bags of fan-mail that were given to you when the fans at the signing all found out you weren't coming back,"

"Really?" Vince's eyes widened.

"Yeah. People… people love you, Vince…"

Vince just turned and smiled, his head cocked slightly sideways, "Let's get ready for bed then…"

Xxx

Vince lightly brushed the maverick's hair from his face while he slept, ever so carefully running his hands through it, softly trailing the tips of his fingers down the side of his face. He'd try not to question the marks and bruises, he'd try and act like everything was fine, and not let his make-believe get the better of him, but he knew it would be hard, just like it had been incredibly hard not to tell Howard just how much he loved him that night.

**A/N:** **Hope you enjoyed, I'll put up the second part as soon as I've finished fiddling around with bits of it XD If you go follow Vince and Howard me and Albinoeyes will give you cookies! **


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:** It's here! :D I'm sorry I was away so long, it's been a weird time and I didn't want to spoil the fic for you by writing any old thing when I had writer's block :/ Hopefully this makes up for it! X

**Disclaimer:** Boosh is not mine.

**DiamondCurve:** I missed you! Ha ha! ^^

**Brogz: ** Love ya Noely ;)

**Albinoeyes: ** Miss you. We can still collaborate on a chapter! X

**Warnings: Language.**

Vince audibly gasped when he awoke the next morning; the first thing he set eyes on was Howard's sleeping face, right next to his.

He smiled.

Howard wasn't smiling though, he was frowning, his brow creased in several stressed lines, his breathing deep but slightly uneven, his eyelashes flickering slightly.

Dreaming.

It didn't look like a nice dream either.

Very gently, Vince reached out a hand, gently stroking the maverick's long hair, sending a mental note to the brain secretary to remind him to cut it one night soon. Very softly he stroked his fingers through the hair, smiled at the familiarity of his face, frowned at the fading cuts and bruises.

It had to have been a person that had done it, there couldn't have been any other reason. They were clear scratches, like nails, too many of them to be accidental.

Howard shifted slightly, and then rolled onto his back, and Vince caught sight of a bruise on his shoulder, a severe mix of deep purple and red that spread like spilled wine across his skin.

Before Vince could gather his shocked wits enough to react, Howard moved again, turning onto his side, away from Vince, the covers pulled halfway down to his side, revealing the bare skin of his back, marred with bruises and what could only be referred to in Vince's mind as 'dig marks', as well as simply the occasional freckle.

Vince just stared, lost for words for once, mouth slightly open.

_What?_

Howard suddenly moved again, this time waking up, slowly sitting up and running both hands through his hair, eyes half open, making a small grumble of protest as the light spilled through a gap in the curtains.

Vince just sat there quietly, stunned, waiting to be noticed, which was unusual.

Howard reached for the water jug and poured himself a glass and Vince waited patiently while he drank, spying marks and bruises everywhere.

"You alright?" Howard finally spoke, looking at him blearily.

Vince opened his mouth to speak and forced some words out, "Er yeah, great!" he flashed him a smile he didn't feel, hiding his eyes behind his fringe.

"What time is it?" Howard leaned back to look at the clock as if nothing at all was wrong, and made a noise of decision, "should probably get downstairs get some breakfast…"

Vince clapped his hands together, "yeah, yeah, I'll just fix my hair; It's all raggy like wet raven feathers!" he laughed a laugh he didn't feel and grabbed his black silk robe, shrugging it on and bouncing off the bed in what he hoped was a believable sunshine manner.

Howard sighed heavily as Vince disappeared into the bathroom. They were sharing a bed and talking like strangers weren't they? He knew that until he told Vince everything that would probably be how it would stay.

He looked around the hotel room, hardly believing it was real, that he'd escaped, that he was _safe_. She'd be awake by now, and furious, probably plotting her revenge, or more likely of what went on of late, throwing up.

And now where was he? On a tour, with a band.

_I'm Howard Moon; I don't fit in with bands. _

_Jazz bands maybe. Not… Goth bands._

_Vince bands._

Vince himself suddenly bounded out of the bathroom, ready in what had to be record time for Vince Noir. He wore a black filmy top with long sleeves that clung to his skin and hug off of one shoulder, with what looked like the tightest red drainpipes known to man, topped off with a silver belt laden with charms and a pair of pointy, shiny black boots with high, sturdy wedge heels.

Howard, having remembered to pull the covers right up to his neck to hide his body, simply blushed and looked away. "What are those holes in it?"

"What?"

Howard pointed lamely, "Your top. What are all those holes in it?"

"They're fashion holes!"

"Fashion holes?"

"Yeah, holes of fashion!"

Howard looked bemused.

Vince grinned, checking his behind out in the mirror, "What they do right, is they let the fashion in…"

"What like trepanning?"

"Tree what?"

"Trepanning."

Vince screwed his face up in disgust at the word, even though he had no idea what it meant.

"Trepanning. Ancient medical-" Howard broke off because Vince's brow was furrowed in puzzlement and he didn't want to overload him.

"Hm?"

"Holes. It means drilling a hole in someone's head."

Vince's eyes widened to at least twice their normal size, "_What! _Why would anyone do that? That's weird Howard, you've creeped me out a little bit…"

Howard sighed, even though he was smiling; this was normalcy, what he'd missed, the old them.

"Anyway, that's enough of your freaky skull-hole stuff, I was telling you about my outfit… what happens right, is the holes let the fashion seep into my skin, so that the natural fashion in my DNA gets replenished!"

"I think that's the most science I've ever heard you talk Little Man… even if it is rubbish…"

"It is not! It's in Collarbone Magazine!"

"Collarbone? Thought it was Cheekbone?"

"Yeah there's Collarbone too!"

"What, there's a whole magazine skeleton is there?"

"Yeah!"

"And what does Pelvis Bone advertise then?"

"Underwear!"

"Of course…"

They carried on all while Howard got ready, and bickered on the stairs on their way to breakfast, before the bicker ended in a crimp about circles until Vince got a text and spent an awkward few minutes trying to get his phone from his pocket.

"Hurry up Vince, it might be important!"

"I'm trying, it's literally stuck to my arse; there's no room in these jeans for anything, not even my actual legs!"

Eventually, they discovered it was from Nowé, and it read:

**Gone out for breakfast. **

**People in hotel nosy fuckers.**

"Charming," Howard commented.

Vince chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, "Wanna go to a café or something instead?"

Howard shrugged, "Yeah don't see why not…"

Vince suddenly smiled, catching the other man's gaze, and Howard smiled back, ignoring his mobile phone as it started to ring, even though his heart went from leaping with love to leaping with an icy fear.

**A/N2: ** First part's done! Hope it was okay :/ Let me know! xx


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: ** **Pain! I have been in lots and lots of pain. But now I'm not in pain and all is getting well, ha ha, so here is a chapter for you all my loves -and Knight ;)- **

**Will message everyone I chat to on here tomorrow, cos it's crazy o'clock! Xxx**

**Disclaimer:**** No Boosh is my Boosh. **

**Warnings: Language**

Vince's arm weaved between the steaming teacups and food plates. His hand landed on top of Howard's, pinning the ringing mobile to the table.

There was irritation in his eyes now, Howard saw.

It was a strange moment though, as they realised their hands were touching; it felt as though time should have frozen around them, and been nothing but a bizarre mix of embarrassment and confusion, warmth and comfort, suspicion and fear, the oblong of technology buzzing furiously like an angry fly beneath their hands, but no; time flowed normally, the patrons of the café still rustled newspapers, chattered in groups, ordered food and tried to quieten grizzling offspring.

"How many times?"

Howard's eyes met Vince's; "Sorry."

It hadn't gone how they had hoped. They hadn't caught up, or even chatted like old times; just spent the time avoiding the obvious, their words forced and distant as they tried to avoid the one subject that was forever in the way, as if it was a huge boulder in the middle of the table and they had to crane around it to see each other.

"If you're not gonna answer it just turn it off,"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"… I can't."

"…"

"So er, how's the band been working out for you?"

"Pretty good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Howard jumped violently as the phone rang again, sending the table bucking upwards with his knees.

And hot tea to spill over Vince's thighs, the stylish red drainpipes.

There was the click and flash of a camera at the same moment Vince leapt up from the table with a curse word or two.

Howard stood up too. "Shit, Vince, I- I'm sorry!"

Vince was just stood very still.

They left immediately. Well, Vince did, Howard was left to pay, apologise and scramble after him.

Another camera click and flash.

Vince was power-walking up the street, heels clicking on the pavement in a snippy monotone.

"Vince; wait-"

_Click_

Vince carried on walking ahead in silence, Howard running and apologising behind him, the occasional camera flash shining in the reflection of the studs on the back of his jacket. He didn't turn and look for the camera, or wait for Howard to catch up, he just walked, fast, doing nothing but pressing a simple button on his mobile, all the time aware of his aching feet- the shoes clearly not having been designed for a quick getaway- and the burning liquid scalding his legs, slowly cooling and the air somehow just making it worse.

**XXX**

Vince had an entourage. An entourage that to be honest, deserved a capital 'E'. This Entourage didn't scatter in all directions like some might imagine, but stayed together as a highly efficient unit, reminding Howard of the flock of birds you could sometimes see in the distance if you went up on the Nabootique roof at the right time in the morning- they would swoop and soar elegantly, but never come apart, like a handkerchief twisting and folding in on itself in the air.

They were waiting for Noir as soon as he got through the doors of the hotel, and moved with him as he jogged upstairs without a word. The band, who had been loitering in the hotel foyer, watched with amusement.

Howard followed, desperate to apologise and check Vince was okay, skidding breathless into the corridor their room was on at the same time Vince, surrounded by the Entourage, spoke-

"Howard's got the door key,"

Howard had already retrieved it from his pocket as one of Them came to take it from him. She was small and pretty with a pink streak in her hair, and seemed to be the closest to Vince.

He'd ponder that later.

He didn't let them shut him out and made sure he shoved his way in before the door shut, then stood watching as Vince stripped his jeans in front of them all.

"S'fucking burning."

A chatter rose from the Entourage, most of them asking if he was alright, and a few dispatched and went over to the wardrobe, returning with more than enough pairs of Vince's jeans for him to pick from, whilst the girl with the pink streak ran off somewhere with the pair drenched in tea.

Howard watched it all unfold, and felt alien and out of place, as if he were watching worker bees or some other species that just didn't need him.

_I shouldn't have come here._


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:**Nightmare. Sorry these are so late :/ I don't think I tell you all enough how much your emails/PMs/reviews mean to me :') They mean a real lot, trust me, you're all lovely x

**Warnings: Dixie**

**Disclaimer:**Boosh isn't mine.

_I'm regretting coming here. I… I've made it worse. Vince… he don't need me anymore… he has everything he ever wanted, his dreams of becoming famous, the ones he used to tell me about right back in the zoo; they're real now. He's happy._

_I always knew I'd lose him one day. I mean, me, I'd have been happy to stay at the zoo forever, or anywhere, so long as it was peaceful, and just me and him. But Vince… his eyes were always bright, seeking out adventure. He's perfect, he's got it all… everyone loves him, and they should._

_What did I do to her? I must have done something to make her hurt me. Why? I… I don't want to be a horrible person… I… _

_She said I'm a waste of life. That I get in the way and cling to people who don't want me. She said I'm weak and pathetic and would be better out of everyone's life._

_I think I need help. I need someone to help me before it's too late. I feel… like I'm falling apart. There's all this hate, all this anger…. I….. I think about… things I shouldn't. _

_There are all these people around me… Not one of them can hear my thoughts and I think I wish they could. _

_I'm trapped inside my own mind._

**XxxX **

Bethany?

No. She didn't like that either. She didn't like _it_ full stop. She thought of him and dug the pen into the paper, drawing a sharp gouge down the list of names on the pad. How dare he? How dare he walk out and leave her like this?

She got up and took the scissors from the dresser. She cut her hair short. She wished the blades were meeting his flesh and not her hair. She looked at the new, sleek black bob, the slight upturn of her nose, the piercing blue of her eyes. She thought of Howard, his brown curls, his dark eyes, his rare smile. She wondered who it would look like the most. She wasn't sure that in years to come she could stand seeing either of them looking back at her.


	27. Chapter 27

**Warnings: Sexual thoughts**

"It was just easier in the end to buy new ones," Eve made her way back to the hotel, jogging across the street.

"What, really?" Vince sounded softly amused at the other end of the mobile, "The _actual_ same ones?"

"Yeah well I'm not running round the place with a pair of jeans covered in tea,"

"You're a little diamond,"

She could hear his grin.

"Yeah, thing is, you say that to all the girls,"

"Yeah, but I only kiss the ones I like!"

"Funny. It was spin the bottle; you kissed everyone,"

"I did…"

"How're your 'terrible' burns? Will you survive?" She smirked.

"Yeah, I'll er, I'll get through it… might need a kiss, just to make sure,"

"Hmm. I'm sure you're fine."

"I'd quite like a kiss,"

"I'd quite like my money,"

**XxxX**

In the hotel, Howard pretended it didn't hurt. He tried to ignore his thoughts too. They were scaring him; but he just wanted to yank that phone from Vince's hands, shove him against the wall, and kiss him, hard. He wanted to run his hands through that red and raven mane, trail rough bites and kisses down that smooth pale neck, make his mark.

_You're mine. No one else can ever have you._

The more Vince ignored him, the more he flirted with her, the more graphic the thoughts got. _If only you knew. If only you knew what I want to do to you. _It would be so easy. So easy to just grab him, pin him to that wall. _I want to feel you squirm under me, I want it to be your moans I remember, I want you to beg and whine and plead for more, I want your hands all over me, I want your mouth everywhere, I want you to scream my name whilst I fuck you-_

Howard stood up abruptly with a quiet gasp, so abruptly that Vince jumped and spun on his heel, looking at him with wide eyes.

The look in Howard's eyes took Vince's words away. He'd seen that look before, but only in creepy people he didn't trust who usually wanted to…

It was different with Howard. He wanted it.

_Why don't you grab me? If you want me so bad, why don't you just take me? You're stronger than me; I wouldn't even try to get away. You could do anything, and I'd let you. I wanna know what it's like. I… I wanna know what it's like to have you all over me. I wanna know what it's like to have you inside me, fucking me, squeezing my hips- -_

Vince snapped out of his thoughts, "I- er, I've gotta go, Eve, I'll talk to you later."

Howard was still stood there, still looking at him, breathing heavy.

Neither of them could fully grasp why the moment had crept up on them so sudden.

Howard was sure he heard Vince whimper.


End file.
